


Flung roses, roses

by pollybywater



Category: NCIS, The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-13
Updated: 2009-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-26 03:01:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollybywater/pseuds/pollybywater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony DiNozzo is a sentinel in need of his guide, but that's not his biggest problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flung roses, roses

**Author's Note:**

> This is ... sorta ... fanfic of fanfic. Okay, I'll stop. Seriously. I am a big fan of [ KSL's NCIS fic](http://www.ncisfiction.com/profile.php?user_id=00016). One of my favorites is called [Wants and Needs](http://www.ncisfiction.com/story.php?stid=00148). I have extrapolated from the relationship she described for the Gibbs and DiNozzo in her fic so let me make that disclaimer up front. I've also remixed my characterization of Telepathic!Shaman!Blair from my Obligation-verse, only he's with Jim in this fic.

_"Non Sum Qualis Eram Bonae Sub Regno Cynarae"_

Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine  
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed  
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;  
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,  
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:  
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion. 

All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,  
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;  
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;  
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,  
When I awoke and found the dawn was grey:  
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion. 

I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,  
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,  
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;  
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,  
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:  
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion. 

I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,  
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,  
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;  
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,  
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:  
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion. 

\-- Ernest Dowson 

*

'Flung roses, roses'

 

"Welcome to Hell, man." The guy sitting next to Tony - in the back of the room, just like high school - tossed his conference packet on the table and let out a disgusted grunt as he squirmed on the poorly padded folding chair.

"Thanks," Tony said, adjusting his picture ID to hang more smoothly.

"So, what are you in for? Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo-" and the guy had leaned so he could read Tony's name, saying it like he'd lived in Italy all his life; Tony had to savor the sound "-of the NCIS. Wow, I think that's the only federal agency I haven't pissed off. Yet. Nice to meetcha."

Tony took a second look, then a third. His initial assessment - short, middle-aged, white male, nice navy Ralph Lauren suit - got lost in the brilliant twinkle of stunning deep blue eyes. Tony's companion was closer to his age than he'd first assumed, given the amount of gray in the receding short dark hair. The lines Tony dismissed as wrinkles spoke instead of a lot of smiling, which is what the guy was doing right now, smiling like meeting him really _was_ nice.

Tony had to smile back. The guy had a beautiful mouth and a sapphire stud in one ear to match his pale silk tie.

Then Tony finally got around to reading the guy's name tag.

"Um. Doctor Blair Sandburg of the Cascade Police. It's an honor to meet you, sir." Tony was genuinely impressed. Doctor Sandburg was one of the best profilers in the country and had written several textbooks on police procedure - Tony had two of them at home - that were considered standards at a number of law enforcement academies.

Sandburg was also notorious for the scathing diatribes he occasionally unleashed on his blog when law enforcement officers stepped out of line. The Doctor's apparent side mission was educating the public on how the police were supposed to act. Near as Tony could tell, that meant act like the Cascade PD, because Sandburg never failed to attribute examples of the people in his department who were doing it right. There seemed to be many. Cascade had the best case closure rate west of the Mississippi and the city's rates of property and violent crimes had dropped by half over the last ten years.

Doctor Sandburg rolled his eyes and started snickering at him, his obvious good humor keeping Tony from taking offense.

"Hey, the pants still go on one leg at a time, okay? Call me Blair." Tony was a little shocked when Doctor Sandburg gave him an appreciative once-over that managed to convey "you're hot" without feeling slimy. Feeling a little bit like he should be bowing before the master, Tony laughed, too. He couldn't- didn't want to remember the last time he'd felt so instantly connected with another man.

That had never meant what he'd wanted it to mean, anyway.

Dismissing that constant ache in favor of stretching back in his chair, Tony crossed his hands behind his head and gave the Doctor his own best version of interested eyes.

"If you'll call me Tony."

***

_He's pretty fucking hot, Jim._

_Show me. Hmm. Yeah, he is. I'd do him. You want him, babe?_

_He's hurting inside. I can feel it. And he's the one, Jim, not to sound like The Matrix or anything. But._

_Aw, Blair. Then how can you not help? I love you. And I am the one you're coming home to._

_Damned right you are. You're not jealous._

_Don't be so surprised. It's not like I won't be there, you know._

_True. I love you, Jim._

_I know you do. How could I not know? You're always with me. Whatever you need to do, Chief, you do. Have fun. I trust you._

_God, Jim, when I get home I'm gonna fuck you so hard._

_Gonna hold you to that, babe._

"Tony, this is suddenly looking a lot less hellish," Blair remarked, preening a little beneath the covetous - and very effective - sideways inspection Tony DiNozzo was giving him. Crossing his arms over his chest, Blair spread his legs a little, lightly nudging DiNozzo at the knee. "You never said why you got stuck coming to this."

"Pissed off my boss."

"Me, too. Well, actually, my partner and I pissed off our boss, who in all fairness since he is the Chief gets stuck with all the political BS which is the kind of thing my partner likes to bulldoze through and I tend to ignore, so, you know, pissing him off just happens sometimes. Calling the Mayor a lying sack of shit might have been a bit extreme," Blair confessed, still grinning at Jim every time he thought about it.

Simon's choice of punishment - separating Blair and Jim for a few days - was unduly harsh in Blair's opinion but probably inspired as far as being effective. Blair had to admit, he was glad of it, now.

"Jim got stuck with cold case files and I got-" Blair waved his hand at the slowly filling room "-this, which I thought was going to be pretty deadly. 'Things are looking up'."

Blair twisted his upper body around so he could watch Tony's green eyes brighten. Blair shook his head inwardly. Anthony DiNozzo was one fucking _handsome_ man. Woot.

Jim was laughing at him.

"X-Files. 'That's how it starts. Then comes the running and the screaming,'" Tony said with a smile that dared Blair to keep playing.

"Oh, Jurassic Park. Loved it," Blair assured absently, letting his eyes wander. Taking note of the breadth of shoulders beneath an elegantly cut suitcoat, firm chest and long thighs ... it took Blair a few moments to remember the line he wanted next.

"'And when he found me, he told me I wasn't really looking for him. I was looking for an answer. It's the question that drives us'," Blair said in a rather intense low whisper, a bit dazzled when he looked up and caught Tony's spectacular, speculative smile.

"The Matrix. 'Perhaps before deciding on a course of action, you'd want to know more about the people here - to orient yourself in a strange environment'," Tony said, dipping his gaze to indicate the people approaching, some of whom were wearing visible impatience.

"Funny you should pick that one." Blair was amused all over again, pretty sure Tony would appreciate the irony later. "The Day the Earth Stood Still. One of my favorites, and yes, good idea. Dinner?"

"Doctor Sandburg, we have a place for you at the front table," the conference organizer complained in shrill tones, standing off to one side like she was prepared to drag Blair out of his chair and tow him through the room.

That? So not happening. For an increasing number of reasons.

***

"I'll sit here, thanks, until it's my turn to speak. It'll give me the chance to catch up with my old buddy Tony, here. Besides, I always sit near the exits with my back to a wall, Denice, you know that."

"You're such a paranoid prima donna, Blair," the woman said. Tony stood, putting himself between them without thinking

(and in Cascade, Jim Ellison was in danger of laughing himself right off his sofa; that was his Blair, collecting protectors)

before he realized the woman was actually teasing.

"It's okay, Tony. Denise and I go back a ways. She'll forgive me."

The woman rolled her eyes so hard Tony thought she might strain something. He pretended not to notice, slowly retaking his seat.

"Whatever, Blair. Hello, Tony, any friend of Blair's, yadda. Make sure he answers his cue, hmm?" With that, she turned and started walking away, taking half her group with her. Two men remained: one who could be a blood relative and the other large and black. White guy was dressed in a suit Tony would wear - which didn't happen often - and black guy made a welcome splash of color in a cobalt blue sweater with gray slacks. Lieutenant Detectives Brian Rafe and Henri Brown of the Cascade PD, according to their name tags, both glaring daggers at Blair as they took the remaining seats at their table.

"Blair, what are you doing? Who is this guy?" Rafe asked in a furious whisper, giving Tony a look that could have curdled his blood if he hadn't already been fully immunized by years of Jethro Gibbs.

"Guys. Check your text messages."

Two suspicious men fished cells out of pockets and inspected them. Try as he might, Tony couldn't manage to read either screen. Both men frowned and gave Blair narrow-eyed stares before sighing deeply, actions as synchronized as Olympic swimmers. Greatly amused, Tony realized they must have been partners for a very long time.

"This is fucked up, Sandburg," Brown said with a growl.

"It really isn't, trust me," Blair said, tapping the side of his head. "Come on, guys, be nice. Tony, these are two of my oldest friends, Henri and Brian. Guys, this is my brand new friend Tony. He works for NCIS. He's one of the good guys."

They muttered reluctant "hello, Tony"s, sounding for all the world like a pair of boys called to the principal's office, visibly backing down and relaxing in their chairs as the conference was called to order.

Tony thought he might be falling in love, and that was before he heard Doctor Blair Sandburg's lecture.

***

"I can't believe you actually quoted from the movie."

"Hey, that speech Klaatu gives about police power is a great symbolic narrative for what happens when LEOs abuse their authority," Blair insisted, very aware of Henri's and Rafe's continuing glares as they followed him and Tony out of the conference room.

Finally.

Blair hated the aftermaths of these events as much as he hated giving the lectures themselves - since his first press conference, speaking to crowds freaked him the fuck out, sweaty palms, pounding heart, the whole nine yards. The meet and greet and interminable leave-taking was another endurance test in sheer misery. All the _exposure._ If it weren't for the mental grip Jim held on him through their bond, Blair knew he couldn't bear it. Tony DiNozzo had also helped, much more than Tony knew, Blair thought, very badly needing that sense of being protected.

Half the room was pissed off at him by the time he'd finished speaking, which was pretty much typical. It's why Henri and Brian came with him, to physically buffer the effects when Jim couldn't be present. They were good friends ... but they were pissing him the fuck off with the knives in his and Tony's backs. He really wanted to get away from them.

"Preaching to the choir, Blair. Italian sound good? I know a place."

"With a name like DiNozzo, I should hope so. That sounds great, Tony."

"You speak Italian?" Tony asked him in the language; Blair replied the same way.

"I do, but my accent stinks," Blair admitted, feeling Brian and Henri grow even more aggravated.

"It's not that bad," Tony insisted, grinning.

Such a handsome man. Still, Blair shouldn't have been surprised when Henri's cell phone rang.

***

"Brown."

Blair paused so Tony did; Henri Brown was still standing close enough for Tony's excellent ears to hear both sides of the conversation.

"H, hold the phone up between you and Rafe so you can both hear me," a strong male voice commanded. Blair Sandburg was leaning up against a wall and grinning at the floor so Tony backed in beside him and kept listening.

"I'm only going to say this once. Quit giving Blair shit. I'm fine with what he's doing. It's a shaman thing, so get over yourselves."

"Jim-" Henri Brown started to say.

"Brown, buddy, if I have to come out to D.C., I'll be upset. Then Simon will be upset. Guess who'll be upset next."

Brown let out a gusty exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes at his partner, who shrugged.

"Okay, fine, babe. But for the record, we didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to. As Daryl used to say, stop hating on him. It hurts him."

"Shit." Henri Brown and Brian Rafe stared at Blair, appalled and sorry-looking winces moving over both faces.

Scratching the back of his neck, Tony tipped his head and looked sideways at Blair, whose smile had become soft and unexpectedly sweet.

"That's Jim, my life partner," Blair explained like it was an explanation while Tony silently wondered what the hell was going on - as opposed to focusing on his sharp sense of disappointment. He'd kind of been hoping for more than dinner with Doctor Sandburg, but he wasn't sure he could take being just a bit on the side for the guy. He was already too familiar with how that felt.

"Tony, trust me a little? I promise you it'll be okay," Blair said so quietly Tony wasn't sure he heard it at all, only half paying attention when Henri Brown closed his phone and slipped it back in his pocket. He caught that in his peripheral vision, too transfixed by the intense blue of Blair Sandburg's eyes, their infinite kindness ... for once not thinking of a different, paler, more opaque pair of blue eyes. Tony couldn't understand what made him want to trust Blair Sandburg, he just knew that he could.

"Come on, I'm hungry. I'll see you guys back at the suite. Way later, don't wait up," Blair called over his shoulder, hand on Tony's low back somehow guiding Tony out towards the foyer. Without quite knowing how it happened, given that he was bigger than Blair, Tony found himself moved through the doors and out on the sidewalk.

"May I call you a cab, sirs?" the doorman inquired.

"I don't know. Tony? How far to this Italian place you mentioned?"

"It's just a couple of miles-" he started to say.

"Cool, we can walk. Thanks, Wes," Blair said politely and the doorman bowed.

"Excellent choice and you're welcome, Doctor Sandburg. Enjoy your evening, sirs."

Tony probably walked a hundred yards - in a daze, with Blair Sandburg silent at his side - before he gathered the presence of mind to simply ask.

"So, what's going on? What did he mean, 'it's a shaman thing'?"

"Short version? I'm a healer and an empath. I can feel how much emotional distress you're in. I want to make you better. I believe I can."

And, oh, how Tony wished that were true, but no matter what Blair Sandburg could do to him - and he was beginning to suspect that might be a lot, appreciating Blair's warm wiry strength every time they brushed against each other - Blair still couldn't fix the source of Tony's...

Anguish, he thought, wasn't too strong a word.

"Don't bet the farm on that," Blair said, taking Tony's arm and stopping him just before he would have stepped off the curb. "Snap out of it, Anthony. Look, do you believe I won't hurt you?"

"I don't know why I should." Bewildered, Tony nodded, hating the waver in his voice. "I shouldn't believe it."

"Because everybody hurts you. I know how that feels." Blair's hand squeezed him sympathetically, the sorrow in his eyes making Tony's nose sting. "Goddess, do I know. I also know how to get beyond it. Please, let me help you. Let me have your back, let me be on your side."

For a long horrible moment, Tony wasn't sure if he was going to laugh or cry then Blair was leading him across the street and giving him the time he needed to catch his breath. Blair patted his shoulder and otherwise ignored him, waiting out the blocks of walking he needed to calm down.

Part of Tony's brain was wondering how he could just buy into this guy's astounding line; was he gonna let himself get scammed? He felt like Molly Jensen meeting Oda Mae Brown in Ghost. Blair Sandburg couldn't be for real. Could he?

Fact was, nothing, absolutely nothing struck him false about Blair, and Tony liked to think his radar for deceit was better than most. More, he felt drawn to the man, hankering for more of this rare warmth and kindness, needing it like a feeming junkie.

Gibbs would hate Blair. He'd say Blair was some kind of con artist, a fraud - hadn't Blair said that himself, once? - and inform Tony he'd be stupid to let himself get sucked in.

That alone was reason enough for Tony to keep going along with his odd new friend. For now.

***

"Mmm, it smells so good."

_What are you going to have, Chief?_

"The arancini and the Garden of Eden salad to start, and Tony wants the Antipastino Misto and the Insalata alla Cesare."

_Sounds delicious. Wish I was going to be there to taste it in your mouth, babe._

_Yeah, me, too._

"Yeeeesss, I do. How do you know? Or, better question, who are you telling?" Tony asked and startled Blair out of his momentary haze.

"Oh, I said that out loud. I'm sorry, Tony. I was telling Jim. It's - going to sound crazy, try to keep an open mind - Jim and I have ... heh, I guess you could call it a psychic connection although that sounds like hokey sci-fi but since we've both established we like that kind of thing I hope you'll forgive the description. Jim's in my head all the time and I'm in his, even when we're three-thousand miles apart."

"How is that even possible?" To Tony's credit, he sounded more curious than doubtful. Blair felt something inside himself relax at Tony's lack of resistant thinking. The instinctive, instant trust Tony displayed struck Blair deep, massaging away bruises that had lodged there for almost fifteen years.

_I'm sorry I was such an ass about so many things, Blair._

_I know, Jim, we forgave each other our assiness a long time ago, remember? I love you._

_I love you, too, Blair._

"Give me your hand," Blair urged, pleased when Tony did so without hesitation. Sliding their joined hands under the tablecloth - not without noticing Tony had really beautiful hands and Blair was something of a hand man, among other parts - he lowered some mental shielding and used the physical contact as a conduit to show Tony his internal, eternal bond to his Jim. His sentinel.

Tony's memories flashed on Blair's first press conference. Blair was surprised Tony remembered it so clearly and wished he didn't.

_What you said was a lie._

As usual, Jim saved him.

_Hi, Tony, I'm Jim. You're right. I am Blair's sentinel and Blair is my shaman, my guide, my protector, my heart and the other half of my soul._

_Aw, Jim, man ... I can't believe you're saying this stuff._

_Just saying what I think, Chief. Thinking's easier, remember?_

_He's cute when he blushes,_ Tony thought with a smile, audibly trying hard not to be shocked.

_I know._ Jim sounded so smug Blair had to start laughing despite his deepening flush, feeling fortuitously distracted when their waiter approached.

***

Tony's head was still reeling but by the time he'd finished a glass of the fine chianti Blair had ordered - _when you live with a sentinel you learn how to choose wine_ \- he'd steadied enough to start wondering why Blair and Jim Ellison were letting him see so much, particularly when he caught a sense of what a deep dark secret it all was and how much it had cost them.

_People in Cascade, they know but they don't know, you know? Only the ones we trust know everything._ Blair released his hand. Tony instantly missed the warmth of those strong fingers wrapped around his.

"Still doesn't explain why you're telling me- showing me. Why you ... trust me. Why make me ... any of your business."

"See, the thing is, the more time I spend with you, the more reasons we have." Blair refilled his glass. "Take another sip of the Nozzole-"

"Thanks for that, by the way."

"You're welcome, Signore DiNozzo." Tony basked in the warmth of the shining smile on Blair Sandburg's face, already addicted. How had that happened, exactly?

_I used to ask myself the same thing. I finally decided I was just that lucky,_ Tony 'heard' Jim Ellison think, more like a fading echo in the back of his mind without the touch of Blair's hand to amplify it.

"-tell me what you taste?" Blair requested, handing him his wine. Tony closed his eyes and sipped, rolling the wine over his tongue. He could see himself there.

"The dusty earth, grapes and cherries ripening, summertime ... I taste the vineyards."

"You've been there."

"When I was a kid." Tony had often wished he'd been born into the Italian side of the family; raising grapes in Italy sounded like a better vocation than NCIS lately. "That trip was one of the last good times I remember," he caught himself whispering, horrified by his vulnerable confession one second too late. "Sorry. Forget I said that."

"If that's what you want." Blair's hand rested on his shoulder and gave him a squeeze. "Back to the wine. What you taste. What you smell. You have sense memories. Back in the hall, at the hotel. What you heard. You have very good hearing. And then there's your clothes, what you feel. The good quality stuff feels better on your skin, doesn't it. How is your vision?"

Tony felt his mouth drop open as the conclusion Blair was point-by-point leading him to finally bloomed into comprehension.

"You think. You can't think I'm a. My vision is better than average but it's not. I'm not. You're wrong."

"No, I don't believe I am, sentinel."

The word dropped like a bombshell, Tony's stunned silence courteously overlooked in favor of the waiter appearing with their appetizers.

"What makes you think-" Tony eventually began. Blair picked up one of his arancini, dipping the fried rice, cheese, and meat ball in the accompanying tomato sauce before popping it in Tony's mouth.

"I've learned to adopt Nero Wolfe's policy. No business at the table. I've been wanting to try these since I saw The Godfather. What do you think?"

Tony thought he might be getting an offer he couldn't refuse.

***

_I think you scared him, Chief._

_He's a tough guy, he'll be okay in a few minutes. The food'll get to him. It's very good, Jim._

_Mmm. I can tell. Taste like you imagined?_

_Better. Wish you were here._

_I am, babe, right there, I swear. This time, I'm right there with you and you're controlling the situation. He's not like her. He's a good guy. It'll be okay._

_I know, I know. Thanks, Jim. I mean it._

_Yeah, yeah, you can show me how grateful you are later when you get DiNozzo between the sheets._

_Where are you going to be?_

_Where do you think? Right here on our bed, flat on my back, with my dick in my hand. Thinking I might even use one of your toys._

_Ooookay, the cold feet are hot again._

_Thought they might be. Heh._

Blair helped himself to Tony's antipasto - the goat cheese was excellent - and motioned for Tony to eat more. His baby sentinel looked a little underweight.

"You've kinda got that Jewish mother vibe going on, Blair," Tony eventually observed, not before seizing a couple more arancini.

"Guilty as charged," Blair conceded. "In my defense, my own mother is the anti-Jewish mother type, mostly, which means it might have skipped a generation but I still come by it honestly."

"Your mom still alive?"

"Yeah, but she's been mad at me for like, a decade. She's all sixties counterculture and I turned into a pig, man."

"Ah, 'irony, the deadly joke'. My old man disinherited me for pretty much the same reason."

"Huh. Arthur Miller. 'Define irony-

"'-a bunch of idiots dancing around on a plane to a song made famous by a band that died in a plane crash'," Tony finished with him and Blair snickered. "Con Air was a cool movie. Nicholas Cage was hot in it."

Tony saluted him with his wine glass and set to eating more enthusiastically. Blair patted himself on the back for lightening the mood and basked in Jim's silent approval.

***

Later, much later, after tiramisu, dessert wine, and a great many more movie quotes with accompanying side discussions on an astonishing range of subjects, Tony found himself on the sidewalk with Blair once again. The skies were misting rain; something deep in Tony's gut clenched when Blair stepped from beneath the awning to turn his face up towards the clouds.

"My place?" he offered quietly, hoping he hadn't misread Blair's intent. Blair smiled at him, a lazy speculative smile that told Tony he hadn't misread anything.

"Good idea."

They took a cab to Tony's apartment. The ride was that dichotomous combination of take forever and too short - Blair held Tony's hand the entire time and teased with mental pictures of what he wanted. By the time they were finally inside, door locked behind them, Tony couldn't choose between running for the bed or dropping to his knees where he stood.

"Bed. Naked. Jim wants you to know that's where he is right now, and by the way, you nearly killed him moaning over the tiramisu. He says thanks for that."

Too fucking turned on by Blair's words to protest being ordered or the crazy, Tony started for his bedroom at a saunter, sliding his suitcoat off his shoulders and tossing it onto his sofa. He kept his motions smooth and made his efforts count. Tie, holster, shirt, and tee followed; by the time the cool night air was swirling around Tony's bare trunk he was fully hard in his trousers, feeling Blair's eyes covet his skin.

Shoes toed off, Tony turned to watch Blair follow him to the bed, pleased to find Blair equally half-dressed, beyond pleased by Blair's broad hairy chest, wide shoulders, and lanky feet.

Tony really wanted to see the rest of Blair.

He put his hands on his belt buckle, reconsidered, and put his sock foot on the bed so he could remove his ankle holster first. Blair smirked at him and removed his own belt, demonstrating, as if for Tony's substantiation, the sheathed knife he'd been wearing in the small of his back.

"That all you're carrying?" Tony disapproved.

"It's enough."

Tony didn't agree, but neither did he care to pursue it since Blair was opening his suitpants and sliding them - with his boxers - down narrow hips and over a thick red cock. Mouth filling with saliva, Tony inhaled the scents of Blair's soap, his clean perspiration and healthy arousal. Blair let his pants fall to the floor and stepped out of them, giving his hard cock one slow root-to-tip stroke. Pre-ejaculate beaded up and leaked out to run over the plump mushroom head; Blair swiped the liquid up with his fingers and held them out to Tony.

"Taste me, sentinel," he said in a voice that put Tony on his knees. He didn't even have to think about it.

"Oh, yeah." So much _satisfaction_ in the rough tones ... Blair's blue eyes were blazing now, holding nothing back, filled with demand and power. Tony shed what was left of his clothes and crawled across the two steps that separated him from what he wanted, kneeling up to offer his mouth.

***

_oh god and goddess he's so fucking beautiful jesus wept you sentinels always so fucking beautiful beautiful just like you jim_

_god please chief touch him touch his mouth wipe your fingers over his bottom lip and kiss him yeah just like that fuck that's hot and you both taste so good aw god that's sweet blair so good hold his head and kiss him again jesus he's so responsive beautiful anthony such a sweet sweet hungry mouth_

_fuck jim you're going to make me come_

_not yet not yet want to feel that pretty mouth suck your cock_

"Anthony." Blair made himself pull back and look into that wonderfully handsome face, part of his brain still trying to decide what to call the color of those expressive eyes, which seemed to shift between green and blue and gray. "Give me your hands."

Tony placed his hands in Blair's without hesitation; he didn't know it, but he almost brought Blair to tears. Blair held the backs of Tony's hands and brought Tony's palms to his face, pressing a kiss into each one in turn, to thank Anthony DiNozzo for his courage. He was honored by it. Tony went pale, then flushed, feeling everything with him when Blair put Tony's hands on his throat.

_I can hear you again. And I can feel-_ Tony closed his eyes and tilted his head back; Blair was rushing on the pure exuberance of senses finally free to fly, grounded enough - at last - to let go. _Shit, this is insane. Listen, Blair, there's so much noise! That baby is crying-_

_-he's got colic, I can feel it from here. I'll see them in the morning and do something for the little guy, but in the meantime, watch this._

_You're in his head! You're in the baby's head!_

_Feel him, Anthony, he's so precious, so pure, the blank canvas waiting to be painted with his life. Right now, all he knows is what he feels. He's as close as most of humanity ever gets to his essential, sentinel soul. A baby, just like you and I were, once. Tell me, whose fault will it be if his father's a drunk who hits him while his mother sedates herself to her death? Whose fault will it be if-_ when _he's abandoned, neglected, forgotten, inconvenient? Not once, but over and over again? Whose failure is that?_

_Not_ his! _Not ... mine. Not yours, either-_

_Not his, not mine, not yours. You getting it now? You didn't deserve what happened to you. Neither did I. It wasn't our fault. That blame is not ours. Now, the past is a done deal and beyond changing so let's apply what we've just learned and make this relevant to Tony today. You deserve better treatment now just as much as you did then. Hear me, sentinel._

_I hear you, shaman._

_You're hearing, but you're not believing._

_You don't know-_

_Don't I? You're in love, but your love's getting warped and misused and THAT IS NOT YOUR FAULT. And it IS NOT what you deserve!_

_How can you even know all this?_

_Aw, Tony, just take it as read that I do. I just know. It's a shaman thing. I can read the scars on you like fingerprints and I know whose hands are dirty._

***

Tony tried very hard - and failed - not to think of Jethro Gibbs. The metaphor Blair tossed into their silent conversation was far too visual for his imagination to ignore. He wondered what it meant that he first associated it with gunshot residue before seeing Jethro as a pit bull, with a bloody muzzle and flesh caught in his teeth, quicker to turn on you than let you pet him.

"Mmm, he's one of Coyote's, all right. That's a great and kinda scary mental picture. He's damaged and he's damaged you."

"It's not his fault. What he's been through-"

"I know. He's barely survived it, really, and who can blame him. I'm sorry for him, Tony, but he has no right to let his shit roll down on you. Forget about him for now. Stand up."

Tony stood, staggered, and fell into Blair's solid embrace.

"Whoa, head rush." He threw his arms around Blair and held on tight, so suddenly dizzy his vision was sparkling, afraid he was about to return to the floor.

Tony wouldn't remember the trip to the bed. He would remember irrelevantly thinking he was glad his sheets had only seen a couple of nights' use and were still clean. He and Jethro never fucked here, anyway, so his bed had seen nothing lately but solo action. Blair was with him in his head, promising him they were going to melt his damned sheets. Tony believed him, setting everything else aside, willing to do what Blair asked and forget about Jethro. Jethro Gibbs was not the man in his arms; Blair Sandburg was the man Tony wanted, needed right now.

Time abruptly started to track when Blair lay down on his back in the middle of Tony's bed and pulled Tony in with him, until Tony was covering Blair's shorter, leaner form. Weight held on knees and elbows, Tony cupped Blair's head in his hands and lightly rubbed himself against Blair, delighting in teasing them both. Blair's body hair felt incredible against his skin, Blair's warmth and scent cocooning him in pleasure.

_You feel so good. More of your weight on me- god, yeah. Here, let me get my hand ... oh, Tony, you feel amazing pressed up against me, so hot and hard._

_God, Blair, you, too. Let me-_

_Please, please kiss me again,_ Blair begged, groaning into Tony's mouth when Tony did, his big warm hand milking their cocks. Tony lost it, hips pumping into that perfect grip, letting out a noise that would have been a shout if Blair wasn't still kissing him right through it, right there, coming with him, hard cock pulsing against his. The scent of their combined ejaculate filled Tony's nose and sent a second set of hard spasms through him.

Eventually, he rebooted enough working brain cells to realize he was lying collapsed on Blair, with his nose in Blair's ear. When he would have moved, Blair refused to let him, wrapping him up in arms and legs and keeping him close. The strength in the smaller man would not be denied.

_You're blocking my senses somehow,_ Tony realized, compromising by getting his elbows under him so Blair could at least breathe. He felt - and heard - their slowly cooling come squish between their bellies. It tickled, and Tony could not help his snort of laughter.

_Not blocking, just filtering. Keeping your senses mainly focused on me, as they should be._ Blair sounded so unapologetically, smugly satisfied that Tony had to see his face. He raised up to see the smile Blair beamed in his direction. Warmth and approval, admiration and pride, affection ... all visible in Blair's eyes. All those emotions Tony had longed to see in another man's eyes, emotions he'd only ever caught in glimpses, and not even that much for what seemed like too long, now.

_I am your guide, sentinel. This is what I do. I protect you,_ Blair said, neatly redirecting Tony's attention by swiping his fingers between their bodies, bringing dripping fingers to red, kiss-swollen lips and licking. Tony's throat went tight and his sated, half-hard dick struggled to firm up at the sight.

_No wonder Jim Ellison feels like the luckiest motherfucker in the Pacific Northwest ... Ha! Made you blush again!_

Abruptly a lot more energetic, Tony reared up on his knees and used them to push Blair Sandburg's legs apart. He ran his hands along Blair's thighs, liking the way Blair's leg hair felt against his palms. It hadn't escaped his notice that Blair instantly yielded, trusting Tony to do whatever he pleased.

Tony never did whatever he pleased in Jethro's bed. Having the option now left Tony a little dazzled with choices.

_I want- I want-_ He wanted a hundred things.

"Shh, Tony, take a deep breath. Let your instincts speak. Your ... heh ... inner sentinel will direct you."

_I don't want to hurt you, Blair._

_You can't, amante, I promise. I won't let you. You don't have to worry. You don't have it in you, Anthony DiNozzo, to hurt people sexually, no matter how out of control you might ever get. And hey, I'm not opposed to a little friendly biting. Or maybe even spanking. I'm good with spanking as foreplay._ Blair's irrepressible good humor made Tony laugh out loud, thawing his momentary freeze.

Let his inner sentinel direct him, huh. He could do that.

Surprising himself, he scooted down to Blair's feet until he could hold them in his lap, fingertips exploring long narrow bones, thick soles and thin skin and harder calluses along the edges.

_Martial arts? Which one?_

_No particular style,_ Blair replied lazily, reaching over his head and grabbing the edge of the mattress, humming his approval when Tony rubbed at his heels. _Jim's a Tao of Jeet Kune Do kind of guy when it comes to hand-to-hand. Whatever it takes to survive, the style of no style._

Tony absently agreed with that philosophy, distracted by Blair's legs. His palms measured the hard flex of a calf and the ridge of a bony shin, admiring wiry muscle and lightly furred skin. Blair began breathing harder - Tony cocked his head and listened for a moment, hearing Blair's heart pound - before he startled a whoop out of his lover by lowering his mouth to an ugly scar on Blair's thigh. It was from a gunshot wound, Tony recognized all too well. He licked over it while Blair squirmed and moaned, wishing he could retroactively protect those inches of precious flesh.

"Musta hurt," he muttered, nosing ever higher, until he was inhaling sweat and drying come and intensifying need. Careful nuzzling taught him the contours of Blair's scrotum and the solid root of Blair's dick, while his busy hands learned the sweet curves of Blair's ass.

_Not hurting now!_ Blair's mind sang, Blair begging with his entire body for more. Tony wasn't going to be the one to deny him. Curling over Blair, Tony closed his mouth over the plump head of Blair's cock, savoring the remnants of their earlier orgasms as well as Blair's essential flavor. Blair felt big in his mouth but not unmanageable; Tony was able to swallow and use his tongue.

_oooooh fuuuuck, the way you look sucking me so good feels so good_

_I knew you'd be beautiful with his cock in your pretty mouth,_ Tony heard next and groaned his arousal. Knowing Jim was right there in Blair's mind feeling everything with them hit an exhibitionism kink Tony hadn't known he had. He recognized it now. Lowering his head until his nose was buried in Blair's pubic hair, Tony deep-throated Blair, showing off. He was rewarded with Jim's impressed, impassioned _holy mother of god_ as well as Blair's complete loss of language skills past a loud _WOW!_

Tony pulled off slowly, with lots of tongue, keeping his fingers ringed firmly around Blair's scrotum long enough to make sure Blair didn't come. Being aware - precisely aware - of how close Blair was, Tony enjoyed the challenge of seeing how far he could draw out those plateau moments.

_Turn him over and put his ass in the air,_ Jim instructed, harsh words like a rumble along Tony's spine, holding only a fraction of the overpowering devotion Jim Ellison felt for Blair Sandburg and his honest desire for Tony to make it good. _On your knees, Chief. Move._

With a heartfelt groan and a rather inspirational display of limber agility, Blair curled up his spine, tucked in his legs, and rolled over, neatly missing Tony. Sliding his knees apart, Blair recreated Jim's mental image; Blair lay with his hands still over his head, his chest draped over a pillow, ass high, cock and balls swinging heavy between his thighs. Utterly open, utterly vulnerable ... utterly trusting Tony. Both of them were. Tony got that in another one of those blinding epiphanies that left him running on pure wordless instinct.

Starting with the touching and the stroking, Tony moved on to the licking and the rimming and the biting as his whim prompted, filling his hungry senses until Blair was whimpering incoherently, mindlessly begging to be fucked. Leaving a hickey on Blair's ass first, Tony eventually - finally - consented to reach for lube and a condom.

_You do him bare, sentinel. Nothing comes between you and your guide. You trust him to know you're both safe._

_I don't do unprotected sex._

_Don't you get it yet, Anthony? You will never be unprotected again. That's how this works. Fuck him bare. Mark his insides. Make him yours._

_You mean ... make me yours, don't you? Both of you? For life?"_ Tony was confounded by his own hubris, more than halfway sure his assumptions were wrong and he was misunderstanding what he was feeling from Blair and Jim. He was hardly an expert with this whole telepathy thing.

_Damn right, that's what we mean. Cascade is going to love you, Anthony DiNozzo._

_I can't leave NCIS._

_Why the hell not?_

_Do we really NEED to discuss this NOW? Geez, you sentinels are so distractible!_

"Aw, I'm sorry, pookie, here, let me make it up to you," Tony said, grabbing the lube, slicking his fingers, and sliding two of them into Blair's grasping hot hole.

"Oh, fuck yeah! That's more like it!"

***

"Not like this," Tony muttered, manhandling Blair into the position he wanted. Blair had a weakness for the manhandling, so he held on and let Tony move them, contributing as much rubbing, touching, and moaning as he could get away with without driving himself into coming. Blair wanted Tony in him, first, and wasn't aware of much beyond his need. Still, he was vaguely startled when he ended up draped over Tony's lap, with Tony backed up into a pile of pillows. Getting with the program, Blair knelt up so Tony could reach his own cock and slick it.

_Brace yourself,_ Blair warned, groaning as he started the process of sitting on Tony's dick, thoughts muted in burning pleasure as Tony's rigid length stretched his anus open and impaled him. Tony's hands were on his hips now, holding, supporting, keeping him from dropping too fast. Tony was protecting him again, Blair - and Jim - distantly realized, appreciating the effort ... particularly when Tony's cock slid over Blair's prostate with sweet slow pressure, flashing sheets of heat lightning through Blair's nervous system.

_God, Blair, too much! Not gonna be able to hold out!_ Jim shot them another mental picture: Jim writhing across their bed, pushing Blair's favorite dildo up his ass, fully enmeshed in Blair's pleasure. Gutted with arousal, Blair felt his eyes roll back in his head and almost passed out; Tony lifted his knees and pulled Blair close, still controlling Blair's limp slide down his cock, groaning like he was dying when Blair finally had all of him.

_You feel -_ amazing. _God, Blair._

_Mmm, you, too. Perfect, Tony_ , and Tony was, resonating in Blair's shaman soul as good and right. Grateful to whatever divine spirits had placed this man in his and Jim's path, Blair got his knees under him so he could stir his ass on Tony's thick shaft. He reached for Tony's head so he could fuse their mouths together, already addicted to the hot wet kissing. _Gonna keep you. Mine, now._

_Mine,too,_ Jim echoed in their heads, coming ... Tony shattered, grip hard on Blair's hips while Tony surged into him with several hard out-of-control strokes.

Mind filling with white light, Blair flew over the edge of bliss with his sentinels.

***

Tony awakened hearing Jethro open the front door, not that Jethro had a key, which meant Jethro picked the lock. Pitched into sudden nauseating terror - as well as a rage that sickened Tony with its hope that Jethro would be hurt by what he was about to see - he stiffened and woke Blair. Blair's eyes went wide, irritated when he peered over Tony's shoulder.

"It's five fucking A.M.!" Blair complained, but rolled out of bed before Tony could stop him. Blair stood between Tony and the door with his hands on his hips, apparently unconcerned about being naked and unarmed.

"Blair-"

_I am your guide, sentinel. Allow me the privilege of protecting you, please._

_I don't need protecting! I'm not a helpless kid any more! I can protect myself!_ Tony insisted, less insulted than he was anxious to get Blair out of the line of fire. Tony was more than a little afraid Jethro might hurt Blair.

_Ordinarily, yes, you can can. But he's already hurt you enough, Tony. No more._

_That tone means 'the shaman has spoken, it is so' and by the time Blair gets to this point he will be doing things his way,_ Jim Ellison advised Tony silently - and Tony had to ask himself, when, exactly, had he started taking the telepathy thing for granted - before he processed what Jim was telling him. _Let Blair handle it, Anthony. Blair won't hurt him._

_That's not what I'm worried about!_

_That's what you_ should _be worried about,_ Jim warned with a voice that sounded like he was laughing, then Tony's bedroom door was swinging open and Jethro was standing there with his weapon drawn.

"This the reason you're ignoring Rule Three, DiNozzo?"

"Rule Three. Is that 'don't believe what you're told, double check' or 'never be unreachable'?" Blair asked idly, appearing not at all intimidated despite the fact that Jethro was holding him at gunpoint.

"Get your clothes on and get out. DiNozzo-"

"No." That was all Blair said, but Tony felt something move through his mind ... like a ripple or a flash or a shock or a sudden sharp pain that vanished as soon as it struck. Nothing he conceptualized could describe it precisely; he only knew what it signified when Blair lifted one hand and looked at Jethro.

"Put the weapon down," Blair ordered _and Jethro Gibbs did!_ Tony could barely get his head around what he was seeing. "Go sit in the chair. Remain still. Do not speak." _Not hurting him, Tony, I promise._

Maybe not, but Jethro looked like he was about to stroke out.

_Blair won't let him do that either, babe, promise, sentinel to sentinel._

"Let's perform a little thought experiment, shall we? Let's pretend that it was you who died all those years ago, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, you who died with your daughter Kelly. You left your Shannon alone to carry on the best she could, which she did, out of respect for your memories, because if she died, who would remember you? So, Shannon. She survives somehow. After fifteen years of misery, mistakes, and bitter loneliness, she gets involved with a man she works with. Maybe he's her boss. She falls in love.

"But this man, he doesn't want a lover. He likes Shannon well enough, but mostly, he just wants a routinely available piece of ass. He tells her when to come to his place for a fuck and expects her to get out when they're done. He rarely takes her out in public. He doesn't even talk to her much unless it's work related, and of course, at work he's strictly business. In fact, he conceals their relationship by being extra harsh towards her in front of their coworkers, just to be sure they won't get suspicious.

"He never offers her any physical affection unless it's foreplay. She loves him, so she puts up with the way he treats her, like her wants and needs don't matter. To him, they don't. He doesn't even kiss her.

"So, you consider that little scenario and tell me two things, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Is that the kind of relationship you'd want for Shannon? And who the hell are you to do that shit to Anthony?

"While you're thinking, let me introduce myself. I'm Blair Sandburg and I'll be taking Tony home with me. He'll be Captain of Major Crime in Cascade, Washington, which is just about far enough from you for him to breathe. We'll be living with my partner and Anthony will be cherished like the priceless treasure he is. Jim and I take care of our own."

"Captain of Major Crime, huh?" Tony asked, idly watching Jethro's face while monitoring his vital signs. Jethro had paled and flushed so many times during Blair's little 'thought experiment' that Tony had feared again for his arteries.

"Jim's looking to retire and consult. He wants you to replace him."

"To be fair, the no kissing thing, that was all on me," Tony remarked while he digested that.

"Because lovers kiss, not fuck buddies," Blair concluded.

"Exactly," Tony agreed, glad Blair clearly understood the distinction.

"And you and Jethro being nothing but fuck buddies, was that all on you?"

"Oh ... no. I wanted- okay, I see the point."

"So, tell him what it was you wanted," Blair waved at Jethro, who was glaring at them with furiously icy eyes. "There will never be a better time. Jethro Gibbs is a captive audience. Say everything you've ever wanted to say to him, because I'll be mindwiping his memory of seeing me. I can't trust him."

"I understand," Tony said honestly, well aware of how Jethro got when he pursued an obsession. "I wouldn't trust him, either." Tony meant if he were in Blair's position, but when he saw Jethro's reaction to his words - Jethro's pallor became pronounced except for livid patches of red on his cheeks; Jethro looked like he'd been slapped, eyes dark with hurt - Tony knew a momentary bitter glee before almost feeling sorry. Almost.

Too much of him kept thinking _Now you know how it feels,_ remembering how many times he'd felt the way Jethro looked.

"You know, I don't think I have anything to say." Tony shrugged. "What good would it do? It won't change anything."

"Dunno, there's always closure."

"Closure already happened, I think. Three or four times. I lost count." Tony gave Blair a huge shit-eating grin, delighted when Blair grinned back at him. "Heh."

Finally moving off the bed, as naked as Blair and just as uncaring - Jethro had seen it all before, anyway - Tony walked over to stand at Blair's shoulder. This close, he could feel the power humming off Blair like electricity.

"Captain of Major Crime. Huh," he said again, helplessly, irrelevantly, too many half-formed thoughts floating around in his head and no willpower to itemize them.

"I told you at Filomena's we had more reasons. Jim's thinking, six months to a year with you as his deputy, you'll be ready and he can retire with a clear conscience, leaving Major Crime to a worthy successor."

"I'm not so good with the worthy successor thing."

_The hell you're not,_ Jim Ellison insisted - loudly - inside Tony's mind, making sure he had Tony's full attention. _Read your file, saw your case closure rate - with and without that jackass Blair's holding in the chair. If I was there I'd kick his ass for making you believe for one minute that you failed. You're an excellent agent and that's why I want you in Major Crime ... it's the best of the best, Anthony. But that's only one of about a hundred reasons why we want you personally. Blair wants you and I want you. We want you with_ us.

_Starting to get that,_ Tony confessed, not nearly as afraid to hope as he'd been ten minutes ago. "I sent an innocent man to prison."

"On purpose?" Blair asked idly, as if he didn't care either way.

"No!"

"All by yourself?"

"I was team leader," Tony said after a moment.

"Yeah. I hear that. Your responsibility, whether indirectly or not," _That will never happen again. No one will ever be able to lie to you, have you figured out that part of this sentinel thing yet? When we teach you how to manage them, I'll turn your senses loose, and you'll be able to spot lies. What happened won't happen again._ "Lawyers and judges send people to prison, Anthony. All we do is find suspects, and sometimes shit happens with cases. Sometimes your subordinates do a half-assed job and you're too used up to catch it. It's been caught now." _You've been caught now._ "Ya know, if you don't have anything to say to Jethro, I do."

_Uh-oh,_ Tony heard Jim think and then Blair was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing Jethro, elbows on his knees and chin on his steepled fingers. Staring.

"Yeah, you're bugging. I get it. If I thought I could trust you not to come up out of that chair swinging, I'd let you go. As things stand, that's so not happening. Sit there and take it like a Marine, Jethro. Nobody's hurting you this time except you."

"Blair-"

"Not hurting him, amante. Can't stop him hurting himself. Well, I could, but I assume you want him conscious."

Jethro sagged back in his chair - Tony hadn't realized all this time Jethro had been fighting, although he supposed he should have - and Blair scrubbed his face with his hands before looking at Jethro again. Tony immediately went to sit beside Blair, hand on the sweet curve at the base of Blair's spine.

Jethro had the nerve to look betrayed. Tony marveled.

"If you want to discuss betrayal, we will, given that he won't remember it," Blair offered, obviously well aware of Tony's thoughts.

"It's not a discussion unless you let him talk," he pointed out softly.

"Not yet. I don't want to hear him. Do you? Do you really want to listen to him order you around and bend you to his whims? Do you deserve that?"

"Wow, you don't pull any punches, do you, Blair."

"I will never lie to you, Anthony. Or to him." Blair's eyes narrowed, and Tony couldn't actually remember the point at which they'd stopped staring at Jethro and started looking into each other's eyes.

The thing of it was, Tony _knew_ he could believe Blair, getting that Blair was telling him the truth, verifying it with every physical sense as well as that constant metaphysical sense of mental presence.

"You're a sentinel, Anthony. You were born with the genetic gift of five enhanced senses. You were meant to be treasured. Protected. Defended like a castle's keep."

Blair was using that 'red pill or blue pill' tone and Tony shocked himself by blushing hotly, feeling it spread up from his chest to cover his face. Blair smiled at him, eyes utterly warm and approving. It was that look that left Tony undone every single time.

"More than half in love with you already, Anthony DiNozzo. Trust me not to hurt you. There are things you should know too, okay?"

"I trust you, Blair."

The smile those words won him made Tony want to push Blair down on the mattress, Gibbs or no Gibbs.

"Molto grazie, Antonio. You honor me." Blair held his face and kissed him chastely. Tony couldn't resist leaning into the kiss and moaning for more. Something dark and hard in his soul wanted Jethro to watch, see what he'd been missing. Tony was ashamed that he wasn't ashamed of his attitude. He didn't like feeling so vindictive.

_Baby, you're human. More pure human than most, at that. Accept and let go, we're not prosecuting thought crimes here._

_I should be better than that._

_Why? I'm glad the 'want to hit back' hasn't been beaten out of you, frankly. You don't have to tell me you're still worried about him being hurt, either. You're fucking loyal. I respect that. I'll leave him in better shape than I found his sorry ass, I promise._

The kiss ended slowly, with both of them breathing a little heavier.

"Ya know, I can't tell you how tempted I am to have you fuck me again, right here in front of your loser ex."

"Oh, god," Tony tried to cover his ears and his eyes. "Don't tell me that." He had to pull the sheet over his groin, all too tempted by the notion, himself.

"Eh, we can role-play it when we get home to Jim. Trust me, Jim will be able to do a great Gibbs. He was a Ranger. Boo-yah!"

"Oh my god!" Then Tony couldn't stand it any more and burst out giggling, curling over his knees to keep from falling on the floor.

***

_I don't blame you, you know. Not really. Well, some. But I get that you couldn't look past your loss, your grief, your belief that you don't deserve to be happy, having lost them._

_But you need to sit there and think some more about what you've been doing. Having to do your grieving twice in one lifetime, that sucks. Taking your pain and hoarding it up, holding on to your wife and child in such a negative way, hey, that's your prerogative, although I'm of the school of thought you'd be better off talking about them, in case you hadn't noticed._

_Look at him._

Blocking out Jethro's answering shock and hurt and anger, Blair cupped his hand over the nape of Tony's neck and enjoyed those raspy little chortles ... even though they sounded like it hurt Anthony to laugh. Blair remembered how that felt.

Allowing the pure fury he felt to show in his eyes and keeping it from Tony - meanwhile, asking himself how much of his anger was on Tony's behalf and how much of it was long buried anger he'd been hiding from both himself and Jim - Blair looked over at Jethro Gibbs and shook his head, tired of trying to be fair.

"You should have been making him happy. You were supposed to be his guide. The guide in me wants to judge you harshly. You were supposed to take what happened to you and develop some empathy, not use it to cover yourself up and hide from ever feeling anything again.

"Tony would have come online after the sewer thing if you hadn't fucked it all up. Luckily - or unfortunately, depending on your perspective, I guess; I know which one I'd pick - you kept Tony in so much emotional pain that he involuntarily locked his senses back down to just better than average. You should have some idea of how much pain it takes to suppress a sentinel's senses, Jethro. You live with it every day."

Gibbs' thoughts were full of disbelief that he could have possibly hurt Tony that much. Blair was very suddenly impatient and couldn't tell how much was his or Jim's. Tony had straightened when Blair started to talk out loud, remaining under his hand, careful not to dislodge him, and was now leaning into him. Blair couldn't decide if Tony was sheltering in him or lending support and thought it might be both.

Taking that moment when Tony walked with Gibbs into the bullpen and Gibbs had made that stupid 'Sorry, McGee, he's still alive' joke, Blair balled it up and pushed it into Jethro Gibbs's mind, making Jethro relive it from Tony's perspective. That particular moment was only the least of it, considering from how many such incidents Blair could have chosen. Time after time when Jethro had taken a verbal K-bar and helped himself to slices of Tony ... when Jethro wasn't being physically abusive, that is. Blair had zero tolerance for the headslapping. He found it demeaning and shared that opinion with Jethro, too, along with how Tony felt every single time he crawled out of Jethro's bed - like he was dirty, unlovable, unworthy of mere basic consideration, let alone more, not even from the man he took into his body. It was a mercy Tony's senses had remained relatively dormant, suppressed by emotional turmoil.

"Blair. Blair, stop, please," Tony sounded a little desperate, like this wasn't the first time he'd called Blair's name. Blair surfaced and - borrowing Jim's metaphor - dialed everything down, just starting to realize he'd gotten a little out of control with the mental ranting.

"You said you wouldn't hurt him."

"I didn't. What's hurting him now is what _he_ did."

"No more. No more, please? Enough."

"You want me to forgive him? Excuse him?" Blair couldn't turn his eyes off Jethro - he barely held his grip on the man - and hadn't stopped Jethro from bending over his thighs and burying his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. Not weeping, but shuddering with self-repugnance and true regret.

Ah, there was a frame of mind Blair could work with.

_You've got one chance to fix this, Jethro. Are you strong enough to be his man? Choose._

Blair let go.

***

Tony knew - quite viscerally - what it meant to have your breath caught in your chest, suffocating. Drowning. That he caught that same knowing inside Blair only made it worse. Iron bands of disbelief tightened around his throat until the edges of his vision darkened; Tony was about to fall out in a dead faint.

Because Leroy Jethro Gibbs had slid out of his chair, crawled to Tony on his _knees_ and buried his face in Tony's lap, his arms thrown around Tony's back, almost sobbing, words scraping out in a raw, broken voice. Tony's breath suddenly came back in a heaving shocked gasp.

"I'm sorry, Tony. I'm so sorry. I didn't- I was so- Please, Tony, please forgive me. I'm sorry."

_Are you making him do this?_ He had to ask.

_I swear on my sentinels' lives, I am not. This is all him._ Blair was smiling down at Jethro like he'd seen something truly amazing and Tony supposed he had. "He really is a good man, you know. Just a little fucked up," Blair said out loud, laying his hand over the back of Jethro's head in what felt to Tony like a benediction.

"I do know that," he said.

Tony felt that weird indescribable sensation again as Jethro froze, leaving Tony with the impression time had somehow stopped. Blair confirmed it by taking a deep breath, lifting his hand to catch Tony's chin, turning Tony to face him directly.

"This is where _you_ choose, Tony love. Forgive him, or not. Stay with him, or not. You get to do what you want. Just remember, you are mine and Jim's, and whether it's today or when Jethro retires, you're coming out to Cascade. If we never sleep together again, that offer stands. Or Jim and I could be your bits on the side. However you choose, we'll be there for you," Blair grinned at Tony, that same brilliant irrepressible unconditional smile that had had Tony from the first time he'd seen it.

"In here," Tony tapped the side of his head "and in here," he put his hand over his heart, smiling back at Blair and willfully ignoring the tears running down his face.

_'Never and always touching and touched',_ Blair thought at him and made them both laugh. Tony was never, ever going to take that for granted.

_He really is sorry,_ Tony acknowledged, sounding so utterly and completely shocked Blair couldn't keep from sharing it with Jethro, who - even stuck as he was in his temporal puddle - flinched and continued to feel remorseful enough to suit Blair, which was saying something.

_Does it help? How do you feel?_

_I don't know. I loved him, but it's not- it doesn't feel like- no, it's more like I didn't know how love was supposed to feel until_ you _showed me. You and Jim. Can I forgive Jethro? Maybe I already have, a little, because what I felt for him was love as I knew it and I felt it for a long time._

_Past tense?_ Blair didn't wait out Tony's reaction, which stalled somewhere between heartsick realization and aching grief. Blair felt bad for Tony but was determined to get him back to thinking. _See? You forgive him because you're a better guy at heart than you think you are, my Anthony. If there's one thing I can spot, it's a good man, trust me on this._

Tony was blushing again. It was just the cutest thing ever, Blair thought a little vaguely.

_Heh. What do your senses say, sentinel?_ Jim challenged Tony, issuing a few simultaneous orders to Blair for Blair to back down on the amount of energy he was burning with the time meddling, especially if he seriously intended to mindwipe Gibbs of remembering him later.

Blair hadn't quite decided, actually. So much depended on what Tony wanted and how far Jethro Gibbs was prepared to go for Tony.

_Blair, is Jethro even capable of guiding me? In your opinion? Or will I have to keep my senses locked down if I stay?_

All good questions. Blair only knew what his gut was telling him. His gut, and Jim's.

_You have a guide, sentinel. Right here, remember? Not leaving you alone with your senses, even if you choose to stay and work things out with Jethro ... I'll teach him if he'll let me._

Blair hadn't meant to sound so suddenly desolate, but Jim was right and he had to admit, he was getting tired.

"Let go," Tony said, kissing him again over Jethro's head, too quickly. "Trust me a little, Blair."

"Always," Blair promised, touched by the sound of his own words being quoted back to him and heartened by Tony's tenderness.

Letting go was always the hardest part.

***

Tony leaned over Jethro and held him with one arm, sheltering Jethro's head and neck because he knew how horribly exposed Jethro was feeling. Blair was letting more bleed out by the minute ... bits of Jethro's stray thoughts about Tony's scent and the odor of sex in the room and the softness of the sheet pooled - fortunately, or not, Tony couldn't decide - under Jethro's face and how warm Tony's bare skin felt beneath Jethro's hands ... Blair kept hold of Tony's other hand, fingers hot, and Tony shuddered with the sudden lurch into real time, once again forced to hear Jethro Gibbs say he was sorry.

"Shh, shh, I believe you, Jethro. Enough. You don't have to say it anymore." _I know you don't believe in making apologies, anyway,_ Tony added inside his head, aware far too late that Blair was making sure Jethro heard, too.

Jethro pulled away from Tony like he'd been stung, but he knelt up straight and put his hand on Tony's chin, lifting Tony's eyes to his. Jethro's face was flushed and his direct stare was raw with regret.

"I'm sorry isn't the same as I apologize. I do apologize, Tony," Jethro said very sincerely. Tony didn't know what to say, but he knew he wasn't going to offer Jethro's usual comeback, nor was he going to comment on the way Blair had gone very still the moment Jethro reached for him. Blair relaxed slowly, keeping his hand in Tony's. Blair's fingers had gone cold and Tony could feel him gearing up for something. He wasn't surprised when Blair started talking - primarily because Jim so clearly wasn't surprised, either.

"Sorry's such a useless word, isn't it? You must have heard it said a thousand times. 'I'm so sorry for your loss.' Every single time sorry drives another knife through your heart because you have to listen to your brain remind you that they're dead. Their absence is a pain that never goes away.

"There's a part of you that knows people mean well by offering their respectful, loving condolences, but deep inside you hate them just a little bit for bringing it up. You wish you could tell them, don't say you're sorry. Speak of life, not loss. Make the gift of a memory, when your loved one made them smile or think or feel something, even if they pissed them off. Don't remind you of their deaths. You don't need to be reminded. That? Is always there.

"No matter how much shit you do to distract yourself, the words 'I'm sorry' only ever hurt ... mostly because you'd give anything to be able to say them yourself, to your dead loved ones. I'm sorry. How can you not hate the words."

"I get it," Tony whispered, understanding so much better now. He put one hand on Jethro's shoulder to hold Jethro steady. Jethro had grown progressively more pale during Blair's quiet speech, tearing his gaze off Tony to regard Blair with what Tony would have called fear in anybody else's eyes.

"What are you?" Jethro burst out.

"You'd call me a hippy witchdoctor punk, I'm sure." Blair leaned over and kissed Tony's cheek. "Man, I have got to refuel. You got any food, Antonio?" he asked, standing and taking a step towards where his boxers lay on the floor.

Tony didn't need Jim's shouted _Catch him, Tony!_ He was already moving, yanking Blair into his arms and putting him back on the bed, full on the mattress.

_Gee, thanks, guys,_ Blair thought dimly amid silent complaints about the swooning maiden treatment.

"Blair, you kinda looked like a swooning maiden, to tell you the truth," Tony teased, hoping to distract Blair from the fact that he was badly frightened despite Jim's quiet reassurance that all Blair needed was food and sleep. He tried not to be too obvious about putting pillows under Blair's legs, suspecting he'd was failing when Blair reached out and patted his thigh.

"Honest, Tony, I'm okay. Hey, ya got a pair of sweats? I know, they'll be long-"

"You don't need them in bed," Tony insisted for him and Jim both, winning a dramatic eyeroll from Blair.

"Si, amante. Look, this is me, not arguing." Blair was yawning before the last word was out of his mouth. Tony reached for the comforter, giving a hard start when Jethro handed it to him. He'd actually forgotten Jethro was there.

_That probably says something,_ Jim pointed out.

"I'll cook. You want coffee?" Tony offered to Blair, ignoring Jim - and Jethro - manfully.

"Got any tea?" Blair asked in wistful tones.

"English Breakfast? 'Earl Grey, hot'?"

Blair giggled as Tony tucked the comforter around him, making sure Blair's shoulders were covered. Blair was chilled.

"Tony, you're so cool. English Breakfast sounds great."

"You got it, babe," Tony promised, hand stroking Blair's soft hair, faintly stunned by how much Blair's artless compliment meant to him. "Get a little rest. I'll bring you breakfast in bed, hmm?"

_Sounds perfect, Tony love. I'll know if you need me, m'kay?_

An odd staticky haze shrouded Blair's thoughts as he fell asleep. Tony was frightened all over again for about two seconds before he realized he could still feel Blair's presence inside his head, as well as Jim's.

_Counting on you to protect him, sentinel. Even from himself._

_Always,_ Tony thought in answer to Jim's smile.

He was starting to think he meant that.

***

Exhausted, Jethro stumbled towards the sofa and sank down on it gratefully. Wanting so badly to curl up in a ball and shiver he could feel muscles in his belly twanging, he forced himself to sit back, arms at his sides, head tipped back so he could look at the ceiling. So hard to make himself appear open, receptive, not shut down ... but if he did otherwise he'd be fucking up what was very obviously his last damned chance with Tony.

Trying not to feel gelded by the fact Blair Sandburg was responsible for giving him that chance, Jethro took a few deep breaths and let his head clear for what was probably the first time this morning.

He'd been caught up in a blizzard of rage by the time he'd opened Tony's bedroom door, already knowing what he was going to see, tipped off by the trail of clothes and the strange pair of shoes littering Tony's living room. He'd expected to scare off some stupid young punk, not the - individual - who'd stood naked and unafraid between his weapon and Tony before promptly taking control of him.

Jethro still couldn't rationalize or explain how it happened. It felt like Sandburg spoke to Jethro's entire body, ordering flesh and bone to his will while Jethro himself was utterly helpless. He'd found it a hugely unpleasant sensation, which hadn't improved until he stopped fighting that impossible grip ... then things had gotten so much worse when Sandburg helped himself to Jethro's thoughts and started running his mouth.

"What is he?" he asked again, not really expecting Tony to answer. Tony had gone directly into the kitchen, where Jethro could hear Tony running water, filling his tea kettle and starting coffee.

It took Tony a while to answer. Jethro tried to be patient.

"He's a shaman. He's also Doctor Blair Sandburg of the Cascade Washington Police Department, Major Crime Unit. The profiler. The guy who wrote 'Essential Principles of Effective Community Policing' and-"

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard of him." Jethro caught himself before he could add the irritated "DiNozzo!" that wanted out past his lips. "How'd you meet him?" he felt compelled to ask.

"Not that it's any of your business, but we met at the conference you ordered me to attend yesterday," Tony's voice sounded closer. Jethro tried not to jump when Tony set a mug of coffee on the side table. "There, that's the first cup out of the pot. It should be almost strong enough."

"Yesterday! So you just picked him up?" Jethro asked disapprovingly, ignoring the way his fingers trembled on the mug.

Tony went to sit in his recliner, arms crossed over his chest. Jethro wished Tony had sat beside him. Jethro also wished Tony was still naked, instead of wearing the sweats and tee so unselfconsciously pulled on before leaving the bedroom. Maybe a naked Tony would have been vulnerable enough to listen, but seeing Tony now, Jethro rather doubted it. Tony's face was remote but calm, his mouth was curved in a patient, waiting grin, and his eyes were bright with challenge. He looked strong. Confident. Tony hadn't looked this way around Jethro in a long, long time.

Noticing that now had Jethro's guts burning with remorse and a jealousy he was working to suppress. He had no right to it. He'd had to admit that much during Sandburg's little 'thought experiment'. He'd kill any motherfucker who dared to treat Shannon the way Sandburg described. He still couldn't get a handle on the crawling shame coagulating his guts every time he realized the motherfucker was him.

The kicker was, when he considered his behavior, Jethro understood what prompted it; with Blair Sandburg right there calling him on his crap, Jethro had no alternative. Recognizing it for what it was didn't exactly make it any easier to live with.

What he felt for Shannon and what he felt for Tony was ... not unequal. He'd been fighting a desperate rear-guard action with his heart to keep his brain unaware of that fact, pushing Tony away every chance he got and being a bastard, trying to quit Tony, trying to get Tony to quit him, but needing Tony too much to be the one to say they were through. He'd wanted Tony to hate him, so he wouldn't have to keep feeling guilty for the way he hated Tony for making him care again - he refused to care like that again, risk himself again. He'd been so busy protecting himself he'd brought about the very outcome he'd subconsciously feared; pre-emptively losing Tony so he wouldn't be destroyed - again - when he lost Tony.

Good God, what had he done?

_I wonder how Shannon would feel about the way you've treated Anthony, Jethro. I wonder. It's within my power to call her spirit up and ask. What do you think she'd say?_ Sandburg had thought into his head earlier, the words so cruel on the surface, crashing over him in an overwhelming tsunami of grief and sorrow.

Sandburg's grief and sorrow for _him_ and for the damage done.

It had been Jethro's expectation of Shannon's likely reaction that had driven him out of his chair and onto his knees, begging Tony to forgive him. Something else weird had happened then but Jethro still wasn't sure what; it had been eclipsed by the little drama surrounding Sandburg's attempt to walk.

Witnessing the interaction between Tony and Sandburg felt to Jethro like being wrapped in barbed wire. He had _seen_ the moment Tony remembered he was standing there, having not even realized before then how completely he'd been dismissed.

Jethro was distracted from his wandering thoughts when Tony started talking.

"You sure you want all the details, Jethro? You want to hear how Blair and I just-" Tony shrugged "-clicked? From the moment we met. By the time we finished dinner at Filomena's I knew I'd follow him anywhere. I've only ever felt anything like that once before. Care to guess when?"

Jethro only realized he was shaking his head when Tony made an unattractive noise that fell somewhere between a snort and a laugh. Shaking his own head, Tony stood to head back towards the kitchen, leaving Jethro alone with his inability to speak, strangled by his ongoing recognition of just how thoroughly he'd fucked everything up.

Finally giving in, he fell over on the sofa and pulled his knees up to his chest, covering his head with his arms and taking the beating.

***

Tony stared at Jethro for a few shocked moments - until his vision blurred; Tony deliberately ignored why - then his sense of compassion kicked in and started moving his feet. He was sitting beside Jethro's head well before he was prepared to be there, at a complete loss for what to do, what to say, how to comfort.

In the end he said nothing, merely resting a hand on a rigid, shaking shoulder and offering silent support.

What seemed like hours passed before Jethro began to relax. Tony was shocked all over again when Jethro laid his head on Tony's thigh and uncurled himself, giving a huge sigh when Tony tensed.

"I know I ... lost the right to ask, but would you just ... give me a few minutes, Tony. Just a few more minutes." Tony couldn't see enough of Jethro's face to read Jethro's expression; rather abruptly, he found he didn't have to. His other senses were telling him what he wanted to know. Jethro's heart was pounding, and Jethro's nasal passages were swollen, his breath was stuttering through them unevenly. Tony could scent the salt-bright acid tang of swallowed tears and taste alkalotic contrails of sorrow, touch the pain in the subtle shiver of skin and feel the dampness of the cotton cloth over his thigh.

Jethro was grieving. Tony naturally assumed it was for Shannon and Kelly, that Blair had stirred up too many old ghosts doing whatever it was exactly that Blair had done. Certainly, Jethro seemed completely unwrapped, vulnerable like Tony had never seen him, never even ever _imagined_ seeing him. Not Jethro Gibbs. Still at a loss for words and quite aware there were none that could help, anyway, Tony kept his mouth shut and his hand from wandering. It was a battle. He badly wanted to stroke and pet Jethro. He always had.

Tony felt Jethro's muscles contract and still flinched when Jethro sat up beside him. He could also smell how much his reaction hurt Jethro, but Jethro didn't let it stop him, catching the hand Tony was pulling back and holding it in both of his own.

"I'll never forgive myself for the way I've treated you," Jethro muttered at their joined hands, which charmed Tony into not immediately listening to Jethro's actual words. When Tony did, he was shaken all over again, hearing Jethro's very real distress courtesy of sentinel instant replay.

"You feel like this for _me_?" Dumbfounded, Tony couldn't subdue the gauche question or his astonishment. "This- you- for _me_? But you're so sad! You smell-"

"Of course I'm fucking sad, DiNozzo!" Jethro's hands twitched around his and Tony ducked involuntarily, dodging the phantom headslap. "Damn it, Tony." The unhappiness in Jethro's tone drew Tony's eyes. Jethro looked openly miserable, all bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes and turned-down mouth. Tony's heart ached.

"Yes, I'm sad," Jethro insisted in a quiet whisper, squeezing Tony's hand in a sudden, spasmodic grip. "I've ruined us and lost you. I have lost you, haven't I."

Good God, this was honesty on a level Tony wasn't sure he could bear. For the second time this morning he thought he was going to- well, faint. His ears buzzed and the edges of his vision got sparkly then went gray and that buzz became a roaring - but Jethro caught him and held on until he remembered breathing helped and got his head to start clearing.

"DiNozzos don't pass out, remember? Christ, Tony, is it such a big shock to find out I care?" Jethro was griping softly into Tony's hair, holding him close in a strong embrace. He used to dream of having Jethro hold him this way, while their clothes were still on and not as a prelude to sex. Just holding to be holding.

Those dreams had died long ago.

Steady now, Tony put his hands on Jethro's shoulders and eased them both apart, tilting his head sideways and peering into Jethro's rather indignant face.

"Well, yeah, Jethro, it kinda is, considering that before this morning I would have sworn otherwise," he pointed out quietly to Jethro's wince.

"I regret that more than you can know."

Thing was, Tony did know; he could smell it coming off Jethro in waves. Tony just didn't know what to do about it.

"I forgive you," he found himself saying from out of nowhere but as soon as the words left his mouth Tony realized he meant them. He was no longer invested in wanting Jethro to hurt, which felt like a weight rolled off his shoulders. Somewhere deep inside he could feel how proud of him Jim was, hear Jim think how proud Blair would be when he woke up and how Tony should be proud of himself, too.

It occurred to him, he was. Smiling, because he couldn't help smiling, Tony gave Jethro's shoulders a hard squeeze and let him go. Jethro was staring at Tony's face like he was watching something beautiful, which shot a little pang through Tony's chest and turned his smile wistful.

"Time was, I would have given anything for you to look at me like that," he admitted slowly, feeling his way through his thoughts. "It's not- I'm not the same."

"You're going to Cascade," Jethro concluded in a raspy voice. Tony could scent the underlying fresh pain, hear it in Jethro's tightening throat. "Tony, give me a chance to prove-"

"Jethro, you don't have to prove anything to me."

"Because it doesn't matter what I do or say. You've already decided you're done. With me, with NCIS."

"Who would blame me? As far as NCIS is concerned, we both know I've been staying for you since you and your amnesiac ass came back from Mexico. Done with NCIS? Oh, hell yeah, for years. Done with you? Thinking that's up to you, Jethro."

"What do you mean?"

Surprised by how well the whole truthiness thing was working out so far, Tony elected to keep at it.

"You're right, I am going to Cascade. I need to for a lot of reasons-" not the least of which was his career. He was never going to be happy working under Leon Vance "-and I deserve to have what I need." Wincing, because he hadn't quite intended to be _that_ honest, Tony was startled when Jethro reacted with a pained frown.

"Jethro, they have the Pacific out there in Washington, you know? And straits and bays and lots of lakes. Plenty of places where boats can go."

"Are you asking me to come to Washington with you?" Jethro asked, his face very carefully arranged to be still despite the way his heart was pounding. Jethro's scent indicated ferocious surprise - Tony might almost say shock - as well as a complicated mixture of anger and jealous hurt. It took Tony a few moments to consider a likely cause.

"You think I'm asking you there so I can rub your face in the relationship I have with Blair and Jim? That's going to be different. More like brothers. Incestuous brothers." Hearing Blair laugh in his sleep, Tony couldn't help but smile. "More than lovers. Familia," he said happily and heard Jim's laughing applause in his mind.

Yeah, yeah, he got it.

"What I'm saying, Jethro, is there will always be room for you in my life, if you choose to be in it." Tony patted Jethro on one thigh and got up to start cooking.

It took Jethro a while, but he eventually got up and followed Tony into the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar in silence and emptying Tony's coffee pot while Tony foraged for ingredients.

French toast, Tony thought. Lots of sugar and carbs for energy.

***

_That was pretty ambiguous,_ Jim pointed out, using the mental connection between him and Blair to let him 'speak' to Tony - and not coincidentally, using this new, unexpectedly solid attachment to Tony to keep his senses grounded.

It was a lot like standing in two worlds. If he hadn't had all these years of visions and spirit-walking with Blair and Incacha, it would be a lot harder. Jim was, in fact, a little surprised that it was coming this easy, maintaining his awareness of Tony while simultaneously filtering out the stale scents of canned air and the noise level inherent to flying machinery. He duly credited Blair and thought things could have been worse. He could have been flying commercial.

Reminding himself to thank his brother again for the use of the jet when they got back, Jim waited Tony out and listening to the other sentinel think instead of the roar of the Gulfstream's engines.

_I guess my feelings are ambiguous,_ Tony admitted, like that was news to Jim, who put his feet up and settled into the cush leather upholstery before silently encouraging Tony to go on. _Can't you already tell, anyway?_

_Smartass. I'm just saying, it sounded like something Blair would say. Gibbs is a black and white kind of guy, he's going to want his options spelled out, Tony._

_Spelled out? What does that even mean? What options?_

_Do you still want him? As a lover?_

_Not right now._ The words practically roared up from Tony's subconscious, they were that heartfelt, but even Tony recognized he was letting his hurt speak. _Maybe not ever again. But I don't want to lose him from my life, either._

_Maybe that's what you should tell him, then,_ Jim insisted quietly. _I'm not trying to give you a hard time, Tony, I promise. I just think ... well ... clear boundaries are a good thing._

_I seem to detect some self-interest, Captain Ellison._

_Very perceptive, Lieutenant Detective DiNozzo. Truthfully, I don't want Gibbs around you. I'm pretty sure that's how he feels about Blair and me. The difference is, Blair and I will respect your choices. I'm not sure he will._

_You don't know him._

_Let's just say I recognize the type._ Jim knew neither he nor Blair would ever tell Tony how many seconds Jethro Gibbs spent thinking about capping Tony and Blair as he walked in. Even though Blair didn't think Gibbs would have actually done it, the fact that he'd thought about it at all still didn't sit too well with Jim.

Which explained why he was flying to D.C.

_You haven't approached him about the sentinel thing. Why?_

_'The sentinel thing'? Shouldn't that be, our sentinel thing_ Tony thought in as cheesy an Italian accent as Tony could manage by mind, which was considerable. Jim couldn't help snickering when Tony sent him a mental image - Tony dressed like a old-timey Hollywood Mafioso, complete from fedora to violin case to big flashy gold ring.

_You're pretty fucking hot dressed like that but I'm still looking forward to seeing you naked, Anthony,_ Jim reminded after laughing out loud. Good thing he was alone in the cabin. He probably looked a little maniacal, lounging there with his eyes shut, head thrown back, laughing out loud.

Blaming Blair - affectionately - Jim felt it when Tony choked on his tea and showered Jim with good-humored aggravation.

_I'm looking forward to that, too._

_You never answered my question._

_It was a good question_ ... "Jethro, you haven't even asked about me about being a sentinel." Tony sniffed and Jim knew it with him when Jethro's disbelief reached him. "You don't believe I'm bringing that up now? Or you don't believe I'm a sentinel? Or you don't believe in sentinels at all? Yeah, I can tell. I can smell how you feel. I can see it in the contractions of your skin and muscles and hear it in the way your heart rate and blood pressure changes. I can detect all those things and you cannot tell a lie. Not to me. I know how much you must hate that."

Wow. Jim was impressed. When Anthony DiNozzo decided to unload, he let go with both barrels.

"Once I've been taught how to control my senses, and that's one of the reasons I need to go to Cascade, I'll be able to do the human lie detector thing with anybody. And there's so much more to it than just that ... seeing and hearing at distances, with greater acuity..."

_Walking crime lab, man_ drifted through Jim's mind and he started chuckling, thinking of Blair. Tony's answering internal smile - and his sincere gratitude for Jim's continuing steadying presence - only added to Jim's desire to be there physically.

"Nothing to say? You don't know what to say."

"How about, stop it, DiNozzo. Stop reading me like a book. Stop making me feel naked in front of you. I can't stand it." And that was Blair the Shaman speaking, not Jethro Gibbs. Blair, who'd gotten up and was currently walking into the kitchen, having helped himself to a pair of Tony's sweatpants and an Ohio State tee shirt. Jim could see him through Tony's eyes, looking rumpled and sleepy, all beard-shadowed and tired-eyed but still burning with power. It happened to be one of Jim's favorite looks on Blair. It was clear to Jim that Tony appreciated it, too.

"Goddamnit," Gibbs cursed, stomping away - swerving around Blair in a substantial detour, of which Jim thoroughly approved - and going into the living room. Tony looked at Gibbs, gave a shrug that echoed inside Jim's mind, then went to Blair, who instantly opened his arms.

Tony fell into Blair - Jim could feel the oddest resonant 'thud' from both bodies - then Tony let himself shake for a moment, only then letting Jim fully perceive how much of a strain the younger sentinel had been under.

"You shouldn't be up ... but I love seeing you in my clothes," Tony whispered into Blair's ear as he calmed. "Very sexy. Kinda wanna pull down the sweats and bend you over the counter."

"Sounds good to me," Blair said loudly enough for Gibbs to hear. Jim wondered if Tony had any idea how ticked off Blair was with Gibbs for Gibbs' most recent episode of choke. _...stupid stubborn bastard worse than you on your worst day, Jim._

_He can't help it._ Vaguely moved to defend Gibbs, Jim had to admit how much he identified with that skeptical suspicious mindset. It was something learned in ops and never quite put behind, Jim informed Blair and Tony. _Don't hold it against him. Just prove the senses to him._

_Like what he's seen isn't enough?_ "It's why I'm up, as a matter of fact. Gonna show this man, whom you hope to keep as your friend if nothing else, what you can do, my sentinel." _Gonna also, not co-incidentally, show the stupid bastard what he could have had with you as your guide if he hadn't fucked it all up. Don't try to talk me out of it. You forgave him, fine. I haven't._

Blair was tired and cranky, true, but he sounded particularly edgy to Jim, who knew it was because Blair, like Jim, didn't much want Jethro Gibbs in Tony's life at all, although they'd never insist Tony cut Gibbs out if Gibbs could possibly make Tony happy which Blair couldn't exactly see happening...

_Chief, take a couple of breaths, slow, in and out. Smell Tony for me. God, I bet he smells good. I can't wait. Now, I want you to back the fuck off of Gibbs. You can be an unforgiving asshole when it came to someone hurting your loved ones and yes, our Anthony is already there. I get it, okay? But you wait 'til I'm there for back up before you start picking fights. I'm coming._

_You're coming?_

_You have such a dirty mind, guide._

_You know you love me for it, sentinel._

_You're right. I do. Promise, Blair. Gibbs is a dangerous man. Don't provoke him._

_Tony does smell good. Like laundry soap and sex with me. Can't wait to smell you on him ... lick you off him ..._ Blair let out a heavy sigh, audibly locking down his baser urges, including the one that prompted him to lash out at Jethro Gibbs. _Okay, no more poking the federal agent with sticks, Jim._

Blair allowed himself to be distracted from how pissed off at Gibbs he was - much to Jim's relief - and gave Tony another hard squeeze before letting him go. "I'm okay, Tony. A little sleep gave me a second wind. Everything will be okay."

Jim also liked that Tony asked him if Blair was telling the complete truth. He was, more or less, although the sooner Blair ate, the better, especially if Blair was going to have to exert his abilities again.

Making sure Tony knew, Jim tried not to jump when intercom crackled and the pilot advised him they were about an hour from D.C.

He couldn't get there fast enough.

***

"I apologize, Jethro. I had no right to broadcast your thoughts. I won't do it again ... unless I have to for reasons of safety, myself or others," Jethro heard Sandburg's nearly silent caveat and something in the words made him turn and look at DiNozzo's witchdoctor.

"Tony called you a shaman. You're a telepath."

"And an empath, but mostly, I'm a guide. And, yes, a practicing shaman."

_You know what I was thinking when I got here._

_You're damned right I do._

_Does Tony know?_

_No. He'll never hear it from me. But I think you can see why I have problems with you._

Jethro had to admit he didn't much blame Sandburg in that case, meeting Sandburg's fearless blue eyes. Sandburg had followed him into the living room, Tony hovering anxiously at Sandburg's shoulder, still visibly surprised by Sandburg's unexpected apology.

"You ... don't seem to have any difficulty believing in telepaths, Boss," Tony noted, the familiar nickname obviously slipping out from habit.

"Hell, Tony, I read Marvel Comics when I was a kid," Jethro said a little more gruffly than he intended; he was actually making an effort to lighten the tension. Sandburg favored him with a faint grin, seeming to appreciate his attempt.

"I'm no Charles Xavier, but yeah, something like that."

"So what makes sentinels so unbelievable?" Tony asked and Sandburg turned, catching Tony by the arms.

"Tony love, go finish cooking. I am, like, way starved. Make another pot of joe for Jethro, too, wouldja? And my English Breakfast? I'll sit on the couch and be a good boy, promise."

"Would rather do breakfast in bed like originally planned, but okay. I trust you, Blair." Sandburg may have chosen to bury the hatchet but the warning glare Tony shot Jethro over Sandburg's head - and that easy admission of trust - slid through Jethro's ribs like a tempered stainless steel blade.

So did Blair Sandburg's mental voice.

_Don't you dare let him think it's him being a sentinel you can't believe or I'll kick your ass around this living room. I don't care what Jim says,_ Jethro was grimly informed and for once didn't- couldn't get his back up about it. He felt too suddenly, desperately weary. His own most recent little burst of temper - right after Sandburg 'broadcast' his private thoughts - had run through him like flashfire, burning out quickly and leaving him mentally gasping for oxygen.

Jethro was willing to believe Blair Sandburg could probably do what he threatened, an impression only reinforced when the room suddenly got cool enough to make him shiver.

_Shit, sorry, sorry, I'm just all over the place. Okay, look, Jethro, let's be civil. Please. For Tony's sake. He needs to know you don't hate him, remember?_

_Don't hate him! Jesus, it's so much more than just-_

_I know that. I_ know _that, Jethro. I'm telling you what Tony needs right now if you'll just fucking listen to me- shit, this is harder than I thought. Sit with me, please?_

Jethro found himself on Tony's sofa next to Sandburg, who unceremoniously reached out and grabbed Jethro's hand before Jethro could scoot away. Sandburg's fingers were warm and solid, big enough to make his own callused hand feel oddly engulfed ... which made him flash on holding his daddy's hand and filled him with the strong urge to let Sandburg hold him the way Sandburg had held Tony earlier, as if Sandburg could stand up under anything laid on his shoulders.

Unwillingly, Jethro conceded the appeal.

_Not much of a leaner, are ya? Look, forget the sentinel thing for the time being. There's only one immediate subject here. Do you want to cut yourself out of Tony's life or do you want to stay in it?_

_How can I? He's leaving-_

_He also asked you to come with him, you giant dumbass._ Sandburg leaned back into the sofa much like Jethro had done earlier, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his free hand and growling under his breath. Too amused to feel truly aggravated, Jethro caught himself grinning and glanced over at Tony, who gave him a wry half-smile and shook his head.

"Irresistible force, meet immovable object," he said loudly enough for Jethro and Sandburg to hear from the kitchen. Sandburg snickered, looking sideways at Jethro, his incredibly blue eyes deep and warm.

"Which one is which?" Sandburg wondered softly, giving Jethro's hand a gentle squeeze that sent an unexpected rush of warmth through Jethro's core. Faintly horrified by this reaction, Jethro attempted to tug his hand out of Sandburg's but Sandburg wouldn't let him. Sandburg folded one leg beneath him and swiveled around to look at Jethro directly; Jethro tried not to feel like he was sitting too close to an IED.

Sandburg grinned, reminding Jethro that Sandburg could presumably hear every thought in his head.

"I kinda like that metaphor, to be honest," Sandburg confided, laughing under his breath. "We're just going to sit here and be quiet, okay, Jethro?"

Sandburg waited for Jethro's nod before sinking back in the sofa and closing his eyes. He didn't bother to release Jethro's hand and Jethro, shocking himself, didn't try to yank it away again. That firm grip was oddly comforting, and it occurred to him Sandburg was making some effort to soothe them both.

"I think you're going to have to start calling me Blair, man." _This is where the rubber meets the road. Fish or cut bait. Shit or get off the pot-_

_I get the idea!_ Jethro thought impatiently, laughing at that sardonic mental voice despite his brief flare of irritation. _I'm surprised you're giving me a chance._

_I'm not doing it for you. **Bam!** Now, what's your motivation?_

Good question, and while Sandburg's - Blair's - honest words stung, they also provoked Jethro into giving actual consideration to how he answered. Blair Sandburg wasn't finished speaking. Jethro was getting the idea he seldom was.

_Can you really bear to cut him out of your life?_ "I haven't even known Tony twenty-four hours yet and I already know I don't want to live the rest of my life without him in it. And I won't, unless he says that's what he wants, in which case, I'll long for his presence but respect his wishes because Tony's happiness is paramount. It's high time somebody made Tony a priority. Jethro," _don't you realize he has_ never _had that. Never in his whole life had that one person who put him first and he sure didn't get that from you, did he? It's just so motherfucking sad._ He _was so motherfucking sad, and in so much pain. I knew before I ever laid eyes on him he needed help._

"So, yeah, you better believe Tony's happiness is an ongoing priority for Jim and me and we're prepared to see that Tony gets whatever he wants. Even if that includes you. We'll respect his choices." _It's entirely up to you. Just. To quote the King, don't be cruel. If that's even possible for you._

"Man, I've never been any good with the quiet thing."

From the look on his face, even Blair Sandburg didn't know how much he'd spoken out loud versus how much he thought. Jethro was sure it didn't matter.

He'd heard every single word, said and unsaid.

***

Tony, bless him, chose that moment to wave a plate in front of Blair's nose.

"I like that about you," Tony assured, stroking the side of Blair's head in a swift caress. "Sit up and eat while it's hot. I do a mean French toast."

"It smells wonderful," Blair praised, filling his nostrils again while he gathered the strength to let go of Jethro, sit up, open his eyes, and go through the physical effort of eating. Fatigue was dragging at him, bone and muscle deep, hobbling him like heavy shackles.

Hoping he'd held onto Jethro Gibbs long enough to drain off the other man's more aggressive emotions - and that he'd diffused enough of them to keep any more open conflict from breaking out before Jim arrived - Blair released Jethro and let Tony guide him into straightening, looking at the plate Tony presented as soon as he could open his eyes.

Turkey bacon and French toast fingers, elegantly dusted with powdered sugar, were displayed with great care, complete to sprig of frosted parsley on the side. His tea sat steaming on the coffee table, cup matching the nice china plate Tony was setting down beside it before he turned to Blair and used both hands to make sure Blair could manage horizontal.

It took Blair a moment of ignoring his swimming head.

"Wow, Tony, that looks great. Turkey bacon, that's really thoughtful."

"I just like it better, to tell you the truth," Tony confessed, squeezing the back of Blair's neck before heading back towards the kitchen, Blair presumed, to get his own breakfast. Blair glanced sideways at Jethro and had to grin when he found Jethro already hunching over his own plate, poking at the bacon disconsolately.

"Give it a chance, man. Don't think of it as a bacon substitute, think of it as your daily ration of the great bird that Ben Franklin wanted instead of the bald eagle as our national symbol."

"Oh, yeah, that helps," Tony said and burst out giggling - outright giggling. Blair decided he could live for a million years on the sweet shot of energy he got from hearing his sentinels laugh.

***

He'd probably laughed more in the last twenty-four hours than he had in the last twenty-four years, Tony thought as he gathered up their empty plates. Even Jethro had cracked a grin or two during the meal, usually when Tony or Blair were snickering about the turkey bacon again.

Which, given the circumstances, was really pretty remarkable, considering Jethro had wanted to shoot Blair and him on sight.

It comforted Blair to believe Tony didn't know that, so Tony didn't call Blair - or, god forgive, Jethro - on it. He'd been able to see and smell and feel and practically taste that momentary surge of murderous intent, all there when Tony allowed himself to rerun the memory of Jethro walking in on them; Tony could process the data rendered by his sharpened senses and quantify results, now.

That he could recognize the truth, that he could not be lied to without his knowledge ... these were gifts of tremendous impact and import. Tony needed more time to deal with just being able to use his senses before he could tackle the things he was finding out with them and not-talking about it was working for him right now.

It was equally true that Jethro no longer felt that way. In fact, if Tony accepted the evidence of his senses - and he did, wholeheartedly - Jethro was finding it hard to dislike Blair, despite himself and in spite of the situation.

_That's Blair, Tony. We call it the Sandburg Zone. It takes more than one sentinel and great policework to bring the crime rate down in a city the size of Cascade. The Shaman of the Great City has a lot to do with it, too. People just find themselves behaving better around him. Call the Commissioner's office Monday - of the D.C. Police - and get the stats for the last few days. Violent crime and petty larceny will be down, I can guarantee it._

_Even if he really loses his temper with Jethro?_

_You're a sharp guy, Anthony. It's more like 'unless'._

_Got it. So ... don't spend too much time on those particular sense memories._

_Exactly. I'll be there soon. Leave the dishes in the sink and get back to Blair - take the carafe, give Jethro his pacifier - and try to keep Blair relatively calm._

_'Your mission, should you choose to accept it', huh?_ Tony got to experience Jim's laughter inside his mind; it was such an amazing sensation, like the way the soap bubbles snapped and popped against his skin as he soaked the plates in hot water...

_Anthony!_ he heard Jim warn just in time to yank his attention off his skin, thwarting the impending zone. _Damn it, I owe Blair a Kobe steak dinner. He told me it would have been easier for me to control my senses if we'd had sex sooner._

Laughing out loud - again - Tony dried his hands and sauntered back into the lion's den.

***

"Sweetest sound in the world," Sandburg murmured, leaning back into the couch with his hands comfortably crossed over his belly. "Tony, breakfast was great, thanks," he added in the same quiet voice and Tony - who'd turned around to grab the coffee carafe - called out his own thanks from the kitchen.

"I can recommend a steakhouse," Tony added inexplicably as he came back into the living area, topping off Jethro's mug then setting the carafe within reach. Sandburg started snickering, his eyes on Tony bright and warm.

It may have happened fast, but there was no denying the man cared deeply. It occurred to Jethro that from Tony's perspective, it probably felt like Blair Sandburg had already loved him better in a few short hours than Jethro had managed in all these long years.

Tony plopped down on the sofa between him and Sandburg, one hand outstretched for Sandburg to take, immediately, confidently as a child, in the sure knowledge his attentions were welcome. Breathing through the renewed tightness in his chest and throat, Jethro didn't fail to notice the dichotomy; Tony never reached for him like that. He'd discouraged so many simple gestures of affection because those were things he'd done with Shannon. He and Shannon had often held hands, even in public. Kelly'd gone through a stage of finding it excruciatingly embarrassing so he and Shannon made a point of doing it every chance they could...

Jethro realized he was smiling about the same time he realized his eyes were overflowing with tears. He wondered, not for the first time, why he was still here. Why was he staying? Except, leaving felt like surrender, abandoning his position, retreat.

Dirty words. He was a goddamned Marine.

When Jethro scrubbed his face and opened his eyes Tony was looking at him with a complicated mixture of sympathy, understanding, and wary, faintly defiant concern. Sandburg had his free hand over his own eyes and his face was wet, but he wasn't making a sound. His fingers in Tony's were clenched, white to the knuckles, then he took a deep breath and visibly relaxed, as if he knew Jethro was suddenly paying attention.

"Decided you're in it for the long haul, huh? Gonna stay part of Tony's life even if it's on Tony's terms? Wow, man, it's almost like feeling rust shake off the training wheels."

Jethro had to laugh, couldn't help himself, too struck by the apt mental image.

***

_A guy who can laugh at himself can't be all bad,_ Blair thought, catching a wide yawn behind his hand, willing to admit he was tired. Still. Although breakfast had gone a ways to perk him up, added to Blair's knowledge that Jim's plane was safely on the ground and Jim was in a cab - the driver of which Blair threw a ring of protection around, willing sharp eyes and quick reflexes while the man was conveying Blair's sentinel through D.C. traffic.

_You're doing good, babe,_ Jim reassured, the constant voice in his mind that kept Blair grounded. Blair marveled yet again that Jim spoke to the shit he was trying not to think about instead of what he thought he thought. Frowning a little, Blair got tangled up in that whole idea for a few moments ... he felt Jim's love and encouragement like a metaphysical hug, growing stronger the nearer Jim got. _Watch Tony, his senses are looking for me._ Grumbling that he didn't need Jim to tell him that didn't make it true. Focusing on the sentinel sitting beside him, Blair made sure Tony stayed grounded, with his maturing sentinel instincts constantly reminded Jim was friend, not foe, an ally, not a challenger for territory. A lover to be - Blair couldn't wait for Jim and Tony to see each other eye to eye.

He was half-hard just thinking about it, and Tony smelled it on him right enough, giving him a distracted sniff.

"He's six blocks away, he says the cabbie is driving like his Grandmother Ellison and if he didn't love you so much he'd be irritated but since he does, thank you, Shaman. Traffic's light, your doing, Blair?"

"Just a general 'avoid the area for ten minutes' kind of warding. It's involuntary, these days. More work not to do it, if you know what I mean."

"Jim says that's an excuse but since he usually benefits he's not going to complain. He says it's sentinel instinct not to want people too close to you, to defend and protect you. What he feels- what I feel, you merely amplify and use to shield yourself and us."

"It almost sounds cold blooded when you put it that way. It's kind of evolved into that, but that's not why it started. 'There's a passage I got memorized-'" Blair began and Tony rewarded him by laughing out loud.

"No, you didn't."

"I did. I had to. It stuck with me. 'Ezekiel 25:17. 'The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.'

"Pulp Fiction. Our brother's keeper, finder of lost children. Yeah, the words stuck with me, too," Tony admitted, as aware of the allegory to their chosen profession - police work - as Blair was, and Blair loved him for it.

"Yeah, and I'm kind of my sentinel's keeper, ya know? But I have to watch myself. Jim helps. I used to be this let it go kind of guy, then I died. Then things happened after I came back and then other things happened and to make a long story short, these days I have to work at not being all about the great vengeance and furious anger part. A little power is a dangerous thing-"

"Not so little, and yeah, I'll help watch, too." _Sorry you didn't just smite Jethro?_ Only Tony would dare ask, and Blair could feel Jim's pleasure when he had to laugh, delighted.

Maybe he was a little sorry. Jethro sat over there and observed Tony with Blair like he was gathering intel for an op, his pale eyes cool and remote. It occurred to Blair to wonder if Jethro hung around because he genuinely wanted Tony to remain part of his life, or if he stayed merely to keep from admitting he'd lost. Two very different things. It was a testament to how difficult Jethro Gibbs was for Blair to read - when Gibbs hadn't been knocked thoroughly off-balance - that Blair was having this much trouble trying to determine the older man's motivations. Likely, Jethro wasn't sure himself, which made it harder for Blair to anticipate which way Jethro would jump.

Blair was certain of one thing, he didn't want Jethro hurting Tony any more, by word or action. Jethro had done enough of that.

***

Blair got up and beckoned Tony to join him at the door; Tony hung back just enough to keep everyone's line of sight clear. That turned out to be an entirely subconscious reaction and when Tony noticed he simply added it to his pile of things that were freaking him out, which included what his instincts were telling him to do. Jim Ellison - another sentinel - was coming down the hall. Tony felt torn between taking up a defensive position, standing his ground, and greeting Jim face to face, be close, accepted.

"First dibs, Anthony," Blair whispered, probably not too quietly for Jethro to hear, judging from the way Jethro's teeth were grinding.

"Yeah, yeah," Tony said, grinning at Blair as Blair opened the door and Jim walked in.

He'd seen pictures, but they hardly did the guy justice. Tony was still stuck on Wow. Big. Muscles. Hot blue eyes every bit as pale as Jethro Gibbs' scanned the room - located Jethro first and sized him up - then settled on Tony, burning Tony with the life and passion he saw in that clear gaze. He'd only rarely seen Jethro's eyes so bright, unshadowed only in glimpses.

Jim winked at Tony and turned his attention towards his guide.

"Chief," Jim said calmly, opening his arms. "Missed you." He lowered his head to rest on Blair's shoulder, holding him close; Blair put one hand over Jim's nape and the other on Jim's back. For several long moments they merely stood there like that, sheltering each other, but Tony could see and hear and smell Jim and Blair physically reconnect ... plus, Tony could _feel_ it as Jim grounded his senses and Blair grounded - whatever power it was he had - on Jim.

It echoed like the ramifications of the three-way bond Blair Sandburg had manufactured between them. Tony hated to admit to being afraid of how this was going to turn out.

Jim raised his head, took Blair's face in his hands, and laid a hot, wet kiss on Blair that completely derailed Tony's train of thought and left Tony trying not to pant like a dog with his tongue hung out, thinking _God, they're so hot._

_Oh, it gets hotter, Anthony mine,_ Jim promised, turning to glance at Jethro again. Making sure Jethro hadn't moved, wasn't a threat. Tony recognized that rapid tactical - professional - assessment and wanted to moan when his balls ached. Damn, that was hot.

Jim walked over to Tony, held his arms up and his palms out, killing Tony with his warm, welcoming smile. Jesus Christ, Jim Ellison was a handsome man. Especially when he smiled.

"Mirror me, Anthony. Don't touch. Not yet. I want to show you something, sentinel to sentinel."

***

It was beautiful in its way, Jethro supposed, watching Tony and Jim Ellison stand there, close as lovers, utterly vulnerable to each other. Belly to belly, open hands to open hands ... Jethro thought their weird non-embrace was very sexual even though Tony and Ellison weren't touching. At all.

They started off face to face - almost the same height, Tony had Ellison by less than an inch - before Jim Ellison said something to Tony that Jethro couldn't hear. They closed their eyes and bent their heads to sniff at each other's neck; Jethro was more than a little horrified when the sight aroused him.

Jethro looked at Blair Sandburg, wondering how he was reacting. Blair was smiling at Tony and Ellison a little sadly, deep in his thoughts to judge by his distant gaze.

"Chief," Ellison said again, without moving or even glancing Blair's way. Blair's smile became more authentic and he murmured something that sounded like "okay, I'll stop thinking about her." He then added something under his breath that brought a hot flush to Tony's and Ellison's necks, but they both grinned and went on with what they were doing. Imprinting on each other, Jethro speculated, and caught Blair watching him with a raised eyebrow.

_Yeah, you got the instincts. 'You coulda been somebody. You coulda been a contendah!' Starting to get it, guide? Instead, you fucked up your sentinel so much that Jim and I have to take him home to fix him before he loses his senses completely or they drive him insane, and no, I'm not joking or exaggerating. Here's my advice, here's what you do for Tony. Back him up. Be positive about his new career in front of his former coworkers when he goes in to give his notice. Be respectful. Let him go. Give him time to stop hurting and settle into Cascade. Take six months to a year and work on yourself in the meantime, so you can be worthy of him._

_Then come on up to Washington state. That's if you got the balls._ Blair shrugged, pursing his lips. _Maybe it'll take bigger balls to stay away. I don't know and can't make that decision for you. Well, I could, but Tony would find out._

_Whatever you do, be honest, because Tony can tell if you lie._

Tony and Ellison had moved back face to face, breathing each other's air, eyes closed and faces serene.

"I can feel it," Tony whispered, sounding a little amazed. "What is that?"

"It's our electrical fields synching to the same frequencies."

"You're kidding. Wow, it feels like every molecule in my body just started pointing due north. In a manner of speaking."

"I noticed," Ellison said, an audible smile wrapped around the innuendo in his voice.

"Tell me we'll get to do this naked sometime," Tony demanded, smiling, too. It said something that Jethro didn't notice - at first - how much it hurt to witness Tony offering himself to another man, to someone not Jethro, right in front of him.

He fully grasped the fact he had no right to complain or make any kind of claim. Not after the way he'd treated Tony.

"First thing when we get home, my Anthony," Ellison promised and Jethro could feel Ellison's voice in his low back, rumbling.

" _When_ I come to Washington state, I won't be coming to be second - or third - place. I'll be in it to win it, you get me?" Jethro said quietly, making vow of his own. He was surprised all over again when Blair Sandburg smiled at him broadly.

"If you think you can, brother. Bring it on," Blair said and actually had the nerve to look pleased. Jethro would never understand the man.

Jim Ellison was kissing Tony now, softly, chastely, but with a degree of tenderness and care that spoke to deeply felt emotion. Their fingers had twined together and they were certainly touching now, all along their fronts. Ellison broke the kiss and gazed into Tony's eyes; Tony was _gone_ , all black pupils and wet, pink lips.

"Welcome to our family, Tony. Your battles will be my battles, your enemies, mine." Ellison's hands came up to frame Tony's face, dropping another light kiss on Tony's mouth like he couldn't help himself. Jethro sympathized, wanting to slap his own lips off his face when he thought about all the time he'd wasted not-kissing Tony, time he'd never get back again.

You would have thought he'd learned his lesson when he lost Shannon and Kelly. Time spent with a loved one is precious beyond all things, and all too fleeting. Example number two was being rapped over his knuckles right now. With a solid oak ruler.

He'd never put that expression on Tony's face.

"I can't wait to get you home," Ellison said, smiling at Tony until Tony smiled back.

"Thank you, Jim. Uh, speaking of that ... gotta tender my resignation. Got enough vacation and sick time saved up to cover my notice-"

"Don't worry about that, Tony. We'll clear it through the Secretary of the Navy if we have to. He's a friend of a friend," Ellison informed them, turning to inspect Jethro.

"Gibbs," Ellison said shortly. It didn't escape Jethro that Ellison was aroused. So was Tony, for that matter; those sweatpants didn't hide as much as they enhanced the rigid length of Tony's erection. Jethro also didn't need a lot of imagination to guess what would be happening if he weren't there.

A strategic retreat wasn't the same thing as running away.

"Ellison." Jethro stood. "Tony, I'll see you at the office after lunch. You can break the news to Abby and the rest," he said and started towards the door.

"Boss, your weapon," Tony said; Jethro was already shaking his head.

"I never want to see it again, DiNozzo." He'd be having nightmares about murdering Tony with that gun. "I have a backup at the office I'll use," he offered, pausing to look at Blair. "Take good care of him. Until I get there. Tony. Office. Two o'clock," he added and left.

Bolted.

Ellison had looked pissed off but Blair Sandburg was laughing, damn the man.

***

Tony sucked in what felt like the first full breath he'd had in _years_ while the atmosphere in the room immediately lightened. Shocked to his soul that Gibbs' leaving equated in his mind to rolling off a stone, Tony listened to Gibbs walk away and hated that he actually felt relief.

_Relief._

He was completely unprepared for the storm surge of grief that swamped him next. Covering his face automatically, Tony turned away and tried to hide but Jim and Blair wouldn't let him, pulling him into a three-way embrace that threatened to reduce him to open sobbing.

"I can't- I- I'm-" Tony wanted to apologize but he couldn't get the words out.

_He was your guide and he's leaving you. You loved him and it's over. You don't have to explain, excuse, or make any apologies to me or Blair for hurting over him. We understand._ Jim's hand cupped Tony's nape, rubbing lightly. Tony felt himself relax almost against his will and rested his head on Jim's shoulder closest to Blair, who was giving him a weary smile.

"It'll be okay, Anthony. Trust me a little?"

"Trust you a lot," Tony said, the words bursting out because he was in such a hurry to say them. "Trust you more than anybody. I think you saved my life, Blair," he added, making it clear he didn't mean when Jethro walked in this morning, he meant before, last night, when Blair claimed him as family.

"Tony." Blair closed his eyes, but not before Tony saw their shiny gleam. "Wow, you're going to be great for my ego, you know that?"

_Yeah, and it should piss me off, too, but somehow it doesn't. You're so fucking far ahead of me on the sentinel learning curve, Anthony. I put Blair through so much shit because I wouldn't let myself trust him. It just - I can't explain how much it means to me to watch you do it right from the get go. I almost fucked us up beyond repair because-_

_Jim, enough. Enough with the because. I get it, I got it then, we got over it, I forgive you, always. We're here now, Sentinel._

_Yes, Guide._ Jim pulled Blair in to nuzzle his hair, which put Blair and Tony face to face.

"Yes, Guide," Tony echoed, smiling before he leaned in the necessary inch to kiss Blair gently. "I like your sentinel," he confided like it was a secret, hoping his tone would make Blair grin. It worked, and Tony flushed with pleasure when Blair's eyes brightened.

"He likes you, too, Anthony," Jim began above their heads and Blair added "so that would be 'our' sentinel."

Tony snickered and thanked his lucky, lucky stars.

***

Blair was as ready as he was going to get for Tony's co-workers. After Gibbs left, Blair had been sent to nap on the couch like a little kid. So had Tony, which kept Blair from complaining about Jim's parental attitude; that, and the fact that as soon as Blair was horizontal and being snuggled into Tony's chest he fell almost immediately asleep. The last thing he remembered, Jim was calling his dad's pilot, giving him an estimated time of departure that would put them leaving for Cascade at nine p.m., making the pilot promise to get some sleep, too.

Some part of Blair was aware Jim himself would not sleep. 'Their' sentinel would keep watch for what had turned out to be several hours. Blair could in no way consider it time wasted, being that he'd spent it in Tony's arms.

Tony had ended up pressing a few wrinkles out of Blair's suit once they'd picked it up off the floor; Jim had laughed at him and Tony, who wielded a hand-iron like an expert tailor and was now explaining that one of his college jobs had been at an upscale twenty-four hour laundry and dry-cleaning service. Blair empathized, he'd done the laundry-attendant route as a college student, himself, and it sucked.

"Whole organization turned out to be a front for drugs so I lost that job after I informed on them to the D.E.A.," Tony was saying as they exited the elevator for Tony's bullpen. A youngish agent with receding hair popped up and gave Tony an exaggerated and graceless snort.

"More Hollywood stories, DiNozzo?" the guy asked kind of snidely and Blair really was not in the mood.

"This your techie, Tony?" he asked and waited to see if the guy would catch the insult; he did, but it took him a moment to notice Blair was implying he was not field agent material.

"This is- huh. Gentlemen, meet Senior Special Agent Tim McGee, my former Probie. McGeek, this is Captain Jim Ellison and Doctor Blair Sandburg of the Cascade Washington Police Department, Major Crime." Tony was audibly - to Blair and Jim - betting McGee would know who Blair was, at least.

McGee's eyes widened and he stared from Blair to Jim and landed once again on Tony, goggling.

"What are they doing with you?" a shocked McGee asked and Blair had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiting the guy. Jim growled subvocally and Tony turned around to watch them with no little wonder ... so surprised that someone should take his side, have his back, stand between him and everything else.

Blair grinned. Tony was in for a few more surprises. He wouldn't know what sentinel/guide defense entailed until it was demonstrated.

***

"Recruiting Lieutenant Detective DiNozzo into our Department, of course," Jim said sternly, ignoring the trio of "What?"s that came from McGee and two women on the other side of the room who were closing fast. Gibbs was standing on a balcony with a solemn-faced lean black guy. Behind Jim, an older man who moved like a retired spy or former dancer was strolling off the elevator, accompanied by a younger man wearing a lab coat who gave off less confidence than he actually felt. Jim thought it an odd choice for a mask, but, whatever. Who was he to judge?

Eyeing the Goth - thanks to Blair, Jim was not unfamiliar with alternative subcultures - and recognizing the other woman was an assassin - thanks to Lila, and his own time in covert ops; this woman was Mossad, unless Jim missed his guess - Jim split his focus so he could observe all the main players, ignored the other peripheral watchers, trusted his guide to have his back, and went on talking.

"Lieutenant Detective DiNozzo will be working directly under me as deputy captain. He'll eventually head Major Crime when I retire in six months to a year."

Turning to Tony, Jim took Tony by one shoulder and squeezed.

"We've been hoping to recruit someone of Lieutenant Detective DiNozzo's caliber for some time. Cascade is very fortunate he's accepted our offer." _Go write your resignation, Anthony._

_Don't have to write it, just have to get it out of my desk. Had it ready for a while, now._

"Stop calling him that! He's Senior Special Agent DiNozzo! Tony, say this isn't true! You can't leave!" the Goth wailed and threw herself at Tony; Jim would have yanked Tony out of her reach if Blair hadn't stopped him. Tony caught her in mid-leap, grabbing her in a hard hug and staggering back a step. Jim and Blair steadied him so he didn't end up on the floor and Jim caught Blair rolling his eyes.

_Way to go with the emotional blackmail, chickie,_ Blair thought loudly. Jim gave him a little grin, aware Blair was thinking of his mother.

"Abs, I gotta do this. It's what I want. What I deserve," Tony said firmly. "It's a great career move," Tony insisted when the Goth simply sobbed more loudly.

"From being a federal agent back to being a civilian cop?" the guy standing beside Gibbs asked with some derision.

"To being captain of Major Crime, Cascade Police Department, from being a field agent in some federal agency nobody outside half the military has ever heard of? Did you fail to hear Lieutenant Detective DiNozzo say who we are?" Blair looked and sounded about as irritated and arrogant as Jim had ever seen him, which was saying something, however, Blair's tone was no worse than Gibbs' buddy's had been. Blair crossed his arms over his chest and stared up at the guy. Blair's strategy was working, though. The Goth had stopped boo-hooing and started paying attention. "The Cascade Police Department doesn't hire, we recruit. We invite the best of the best, those individuals who believe in doing The Job right. We have the best case closure rates and the lowest average crime rates in the entire country. Maybe you should like, go Google us or something, man."

"Forgive me, young man, but I didn't hear the introductions. Doctor Donald Mallard, Medical Examiner, at your service; this is my assistant, Mister Jimmy Palmer." The elderly man walked up and elegantly offered Blair his hand. Blair took it and they shook, Blair silently telling Jim the Medical Examiner felt like a good guy. Jim's senses had already told him the same thing.

"Pleasure to meet you, Sir. I've read several of your articles in 'Forensic Echo' and the 'AJFMP'. I'm Doctor Blair Sandburg, this is my partner, Captain Jim Ellison."

"Oh, my, likewise a pleasure, Doctor Sandburg. Such an odd coincidence, this; I only last week read your article on pack versus mob psychology in 'Forensic Sciences International'. Exceptionally cogent and very well-written, I must say. I would love to discuss- ah, well, perhaps another time. Captain Ellison, so pleased to make your acquaintance. Anthony, dear boy, congratulations. I understand it's quite an honor to be invited to join the Cascade Police Department. I must say I am not at all surprised you've been asked. You've been a marvelous asset to NCIS in the time I've known you. Please do keep in touch. I should hate to see our friendship wither."

"Thank you, Ducky, I will, promise," Tony said with a blush, rolling his own eyes when the Goth began sobbing again, more quietly this time. "Abby, please," he began helplessly, patting her shaking shoulders.

"Well, Leon, guess Doctor Sandburg told you," Jethro Gibbs muttered to the guy standing beside him; Jim realized he must be Leon Vance, the agency's Director. "Haven't you heard of them? Sandburg wrote-"

"Of course I've heard of him, he was one of the featured speakers at that seminar I sent DiNozzo to yesterday. Is that where they met?"

"Yeah, congratulations, Leon. You cost us the best agent NCIS has ever seen, the agent I hand-picked to replace me as head of the MCRT." Gibbs didn't bother to say this quietly and half the room heard him. Only Jim - and Tony, who was also listening, of course, and looking astonished - heard Leon Vance's low response to Gibbs.

"I doubt I'm the one who made him unhappy enough to leave."

"With all due respect, Director, fuck you. You didn't help," Gibbs grumbled out, leaving Vance's side to come down to the bullpen floor where he finally relieved Tony of his burden of watery Goth. "Come on, Abs, it's not like he's dying, just moving."

"To the other side of the freaking country, Gibbs!" Abby the Goth pounded on Gibbs' chest a couple of times and Jim could smell the way Gibbs let them think her blows were responsible for his wince when she whispered "if this is your fault, Bossman, you better fix it. Now."

"Tony's fixing things his way this time, Abby, and that's his right. His choice. We have to respect it."

"Who are you and what have you done with the real Gibbs?" she pulled away to ask him, still visibly distraught, eye make-up running down her face in pitiful black streaks. Gibbs wiped them with his thumbs and gave her a sad smile.

"Tony's been asked to work with experts in his chosen field-" he began and Abby stomped her foot.

"He was already doing that here!"

"-in a department where he stands a chance of career advancement that he's unlikely to get at NCIS. Be happy for him, Abs."

"Gibbs!"

While the Gibbs and Abby show had everyone distracted, Tony had gone to his desk - Jim could tell it was his from the layers of 'Tony' around it - opened a bottom drawer and pulled out two long white envelopes, one addressed to Gibbs and one to a Director Jenny Shepard.

"Huh, guess I'm gonna have to change that," Tony said absently, reaching in another drawer for a new envelope.

"You have had letters of resignation in your desk since before Jenny died?" the female assassin asked, audible shock in her voice. "When? When did you write them?"

"Oh, I wrote the first one two days after I started working for Gibbs, Zee-va." Tony replied matter-of-factly, pulling the letter out of the 'Shepard' envelope and reading over it with a frown. "Said 'Director Morrow', then. I should probably write this over. Wouldn't feel right about just scratching out Jenny's name." Tony sighed, smelling sad to Jim. He set the letter aside and took out a clean piece of paper, before scrounging in yet another drawer for a pen.

"Take your time, Anthony. Got your back," Jim encouraged very softly, for only Tony to hear, rewarded when Tony looked at him and mouthed "thanks, Jim."

"I've never been invited to Cascade," Abby sulked into Gibbs' chest and Jim heard Blair's private snicker.

"Our forensics department is currently fully staffed," Blair said, managing to keep his tone neutral.

"Indeed, and quite well, too," Doctor Mallard put in. "Dan Wolf and Serena Chang are among the bright lights in our field."

"Thank you, Doctor Mallard. I'll pass along to them you said so, if I may? They'll be so thrilled to hear you said that," Blair assured, smiling at the ME before adding - and Jim didn't know why he was at all surprised - "and for the record, Sir, you have an open invitation to Cascade. Dan has spoken of you and would love to have you as a part-time consultant, perhaps after you retire?"

"Thank you, Doctor Sandburg. I shall certainly keep it in mind, and please do pass my compliments along to Doctors Wolf and Chang."

"I will."

"Hey! Stop handing out the apples, Eve! No more recruiting! Now you're just being rude!"

"I beg your pardon, Miss Sciuto, you're absolutely right," Blair said politely, thinking to Jim that Doctor Mallard seemed to bring better etiquette out of people without even trying.

Tony had been writing, his handwriting precise and neat, keeping his official resignation formal and short, not signed but dated. He slapped it on the copier and made himself a few duplicates - _one to drop off at Human Resources, one for his own records, and one for Gibbs_ , Tony informed Jim - then Tony leaned over his desk to sign all four, sliding one into Gibbs' envelope and folding one for the envelope on which he'd written 'Director Vance'. Leaving the one for Gibbs on Gibbs' desk, Tony slipped the first two into his inside suitcoat pocket and started towards Vance, shoulders stiffening. Gibbs reached out and stopped him, plucking the letter from his hand.

"Save yourself some grief and don't waste any more of your time on him. I'll give it to him," Gibbs said to Tony very quietly, his tone almost pleading. _It's the least I can do, Tony. Please. Shouldn't you be packing your stuff?_

_In a hurry to get rid of me, Boss?_

_Never. Never, Tony. But the sooner you're gone the closer we are to meeting up again, the closer I am to doing things differently with you._

_I ... don't know if I can ever be- if I- if we can ever- have sex again be lovers be more than friends I can't put myself out there with you scared of you scared of hurting again miss you already but it's like sticking fingers in a bruise Jethro don't hate me don't hate me for being weak scared-_

_Don't hate you could never hate you I love you Tony and I understand don't think you're weak not at all think maybe you're stronger than I am and so was Shannon love you both for that believe me._

Blair eased up on his telepathic grasp and got them all out of each others' heads, hoping that blast of honest stream-of-consciousness had washed away some of the emotional underbrush separating both men.

_You think he'll eventually step up and become Anthony's guide,_ Jim concluded privately; this time, the surprise was on him. _Really?_

_Gibbs is a born guide, Jim, like it or not. Whether he's Anthony's guide remains to be seen. Right now, I'm Anthony's guide, and it's my duty to make sure Anthony sees Jethro clear._

_I get that, Chief. Love you for it, too._

_Jim. Love you, too._

Gibbs handed Abby off to McGee and took Tony by his shoulders; Jim actually started, his body giving one huge jerk, half a breath from leaping in to intervene. Blair's hand on his back pressed in and held him as Gibbs stared Tony in the eyes.

"I'm proud of you, Anthony. I'm going to miss you. Be well." With that, Gibbs hugged Tony, whose hands fluttered helplessly at Gibbs' sides before settling in to gingerly hug back.

"Thanks, Jethro. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Captain Ellison is right, Cascade's lucky to have you." Gibbs patted Tony on the back and slowly released him; Jim finally felt his pulse rate come down from triple digits since Tony appeared unharmed.

"There is the question of your notice, Special Agent DiNozzo," Vance said from the balcony. Blair snorted and grinned at Jim, who looked up at the Director and crossed his arms.

"I have ninety-eight days in unused vacation time, Director, I think that will easily cover a month's notice," Tony replied calmly, going back to his desk, opening a drawer at the bottom of a filing cabinet, and pulling out a couple of folded boxes which he opened, securing the bottoms with tape like someone who'd taped a lot of boxes in his day.

"You keep boxes in your filing cabinet, pre-written resignation letters in your desk - I don't believe you, Tony. I thought you would never quit NCIS," _quit me_ the female assassin didn't say, but Jim saw Tony hear it anyway.

"Always be prepared, and all that, Probational Agent David _and you quit on me a long time ago_ Tony added inside his head, remembering when this woman had asked Jethro to come out of retirement and help her instead of coming to her team leader, Tony himself. "Isn't that one of the rules, Boss?"

"Wrong organization, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied, offering Tony a faint grin behind which, Jim could tell, he was still deeply unsettled. "It's still a good rule, though."

"Director Vance, I anticipate the Secretary of the Navy will be calling you today with orders for you to immediately release Lieutenant Detective Anthony DiNozzo from this agency's employ, without prejudice. You will waive his standard two-week notice in lieu of two weeks of his accrued vacation pay and as one administrator to another, I anticipate your agency will compensate Tony financially for everything he's owed, up to and including the remainder of his vacation time," Jim took it upon himself to inform Vance, beyond tempted to include the blue book value of Tony's two destroyed classic cars as part of a separation bonus. Tony deserved all that and more, in Jim's opinion.

"Ya know, Cascade PD paid for my cars once or twice when they were blown up on company time," Blair noted almost casually, rubbing his chin with his fingers and taking on that mad scientist look Jim so adored. "Course, we're just civilians, cops, city drones ... not feds, not 'special agents'. What would we know about standing behind our employees, huh, Jim?"

"Hey, Chief, even the Army gives back pay."

Gibbs actually snickered at that and Jim wondered if he was going to have to end up changing his opinion of the guy.

"Thank you for the heads-up, gentlemen. Good day," Vance said as a woman approached him - his secretary, Jim judged by the intensity of her scent pile as it mingled with Vance's. The two spent a lot of time together but not in immediate physical proximity. She quietly told Vance SecNav was holding for him. Personally.

Vance started to walk off with his secretary, then paused, turning back to look at Tony.

"Congratulations on your new position, Special Agent DiNozzo. Doctor Mallard is right, you've been an asset to this agency and I'm sorry to see you go." With that said, Vance did walk off then; more than one person in the room said "huh" under their breaths, including Tony, who was looking poleaxed yet again, pausing in the middle of packing.

***

"No! This is not happening" Abby insisted, yanking herself out of McGee's grasp and marching over to Tony's desk, emptying his boxes of their contents faster than he was putting stuff in them. She scattered a handful of files by throwing them on his desk. Blair stepped up and scooped them into order, all while staring Abby down.

"You're not getting your way this time, no matter how many tantrums you throw, lady. You aren't emotionally blackmailing Tony any longer. Those days are over."

Abby gasped, eyes filling up with fresh tears, gaze trying to connect with Tony's. He looked away in favor of Jim, who was already moving to Tony's side.

Tony grinned at Jim, unexpectedly thrilled by that instinctive, very physical gesture of protectiveness directed towards him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt like someone had his back so unconditionally, not before these two men came into his life ... and God, it felt so good.

_Thank you_ he thought at them both, taking his personal files out of Blair's hands and putting them back in the box. Abby slammed her hands down on top of his and Tony let her hold him down.

"Tony, please! You can't just leave us! I thought we were best friends!"

"I used to think so, too. Be a friend now, Abs, and be happy for me," Tony said, very aware Blair was ready to grab Abby away from him if necessary.

Abby looked at him like she'd been slapped and pulled back all on her own, rubbing her face and sniffing a little obviously.

"I'm going to hate it here without you," she whispered miserably. "You were the only thing that made this place fun, Tony. It's going to be so awful, just like after Kate died-"

"Enough, Abby." Surprisingly, this was Jethro, who took Abby by the arm and pulled her away. "There were too many times I thought I'd be the one packing Tony's desk. He's alive to do it, we oughta be celebrating." Jethro grimaced, visibly suspecting his words hadn't come out quite like he'd intended them to. He looked at Tony apologetically. "I didn't mean-"

"I know what you meant, Jethro. Thanks," Tony said, understanding. As senior supervisory agent, Jethro Gibbs had cleaned out a few too many desks in the last ten years. NCIS had lost a lot of agents to death. "I'm glad I'm alive, too."

He couldn't have said that before yesterday, Tony realized with sudden sharp comprehension, very well aware indeed to whom he owed his thanks for being able to say those words today.

"Tony- Lieutenant Detective DiNozzo," Ziva corrected herself, voice unexpectedly husky. "Congratulations on your new job," she added softly, gracing Tony with a brave smile. "I will miss you, too."

"Me, too," McGee said uncomfortably, glancing over at Gibbs, who was bringing Abby back to him. Abby halted in her tracks before spinning around to glare at Tony, unsmiling.

"You have to email me! Every day! Or I'll know where to find you, Mister!" she ordered. "Every day, Tony and I'm not kidding! A joke a day!" She wheeled back around and stalked off to the elevator, passing through Ducky and Palmer like scattering geese and turning her back on them all until the elevator doors closed.

"Give her some time," Gibbs said to Tony quietly and _I'll work on her._

_You better if you think she won't kill you and hide your body next time you try to retire,_ Tony thought back a little bitterly, not at all prepared to believe that Jethro actually ever _would_ , and surely not for him...

_That's where you're wrong, but I understand why I'll have to prove it to you._

_Don't make promises you can't keep, Jethro,"_ Tony replied before it occurred to him to wonder how he and Jethro were having this entire unspoken conversation. He was pretty sure he knew.

_I'm not. That way you'll be surprised,_ Jethro informed him silently, seeming perfectly okay with committing mental telepathy.

Tony shook his head and finished packing what he wanted to take in two boxes. Jim reached out and grabbed one which he promptly handed to Blair, taking the other for himself. Tony found himself grinning at them both, bouncing back on his heels before he pulled out his badge and gun, leaving both on Jethro's desk.

He was not surprised when it felt like he'd laid down an old, old burden.

***

The End

25,000-ish  
6.13.10

***

[WIP SEQUEL HERE](http://polly-bywater.dreamwidth.org/46378.html)


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